


A New Set of Rules

by Dennis71



Category: Daria (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:47:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 46,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26093623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dennis71/pseuds/Dennis71
Summary: Daria's at Notre Dame, one of the best academic schools in the country. Of course, it's also one of the best football schools in the country, so guess who else is there? And why is Daria tutoring him?
Relationships: Daria Morgendorffer/Kevin Thompson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	1. Defense

Fall. School starting. Leaves falling. The crash of bodies on the football field. The ritual enacted yearly across the country. Coaches bark orders, and the troops form up in precise patterns. The whistle blows, and young men hurl themselves at each other. The jolt of contact, the sound of the hit, the graceful arc the ball describes as it sails to the waiting arms of an open receiver. All of these and more are what football is about. It’s a game, but it’s more than that, and less. In school, the jocks are the aristocracy, and the football players are royal blood. The quarterback is king, and the power and adulation are addictive. Eventually, though, the addict must face withdrawal when the cheers stop…

***

**Chapter 1: Illegal Contact**

Daria Morgendorffer hurried across the quad, her arms for once empty of books. Her customary green jacket was still in place, but underneath it was a heavy beige sweater. It was the last week in November and the Midwest was already sinking into winter cold, with a light dusting of snow still covering the ground from two days ago. Her first semester at Notre Dame had flown by, and now she was confronted with the looming specter of finals. She’d allowed herself the luxury of ignoring them until after Thanksgiving. _Well, that excuse is gone, so I’d better put the boot in if I want to do well._

Thanksgiving had been Daria’s first trip home, and much as it pained her to admit it, she’d had a really nice time. For the first time she could remember, seeing her family had been a pleasure and not a chore. She’d even managed to have a heart-to-heart with Quinn, and Quinn had surprised and pleased her big sister by continuing the academic improvement and broadening horizons that had characterized her junior year.

Daria had also missed her friends. She’d never expected to feel that way: before Lawndale, she’d never been close enough to anyone to feel the pain of separation. True, after Highland she would occasionally wonder about Beavis and Butthead—had McVicker or Anderson finally snapped and killed them or had they managed to do it themselves though their usual combination of stupidity and recklessness? It was interest of a sort, but it wasn't anything like her pleasure at seeing Jodie and Mack, who were both doing well at their respective schools in New Jersey—he at Rutgers, she at Princeton—much less the intense joy she’d felt at seeing Jane.

The partners in crime had kept in touch via e-mail and telephone, but such distant connections couldn’t compare to actually being together after three months. Being around Jane again had been wonderful, as had been seeing Jodie and Mack. Even her visit with Brittany had been a joy. Daria was planning to cling to that happiness through the haze of finals and papers over the next month.

“Daria, wait!” A familiar, unwelcome voice broke her reverie, and Kevin Thompson hurried along to catch up with her. _There’s a face I didn’t miss seeing back in Lawndale_ , she thought.

She had thoroughly researched Notre Dame’s superior academic facilities, but she’d somehow ignored, or overlooked, its other major claim to fame, its status as a football factory. Finding out that Kevin was once again a fellow classmate had been a horrible shock, even worse than learning that South Bend, Indiana, was duller than Lawndale. Fortunately, he’d mostly avoided her, being consumed with all things football and few things scholastic. She’d been relieved to hear from Brittany that he hadn’t even come home for Thanksgiving. _But now I’m paying the piper for my good luck._

“Daria’s not home. Leave your name and number at the beep and she’ll get back to you three days after Armageddon.” She hurried on without turning, hoping he would stop to puzzle out her statement so she could make her escape.

Kevin chuckled halfheartedly. “Uh, yeah. That’s funny, Daria.” With his long legs, he paced her easily. “I need to talk to you.”

She spared him a tired glance. “Just because you play for the Irish doesn’t mean they’ll kick you off the team for being American. I thought we discussed this.” _At least he’s not still wearing his uniform or carrying a football wherever he goes._

Kevin was instead wearing jeans and a heavy sweatshirt with the Fighting Irish logo. He gave Daria a relieved nod. “Yeah. The coaches told me it was okay, too.”

“Then why do you want to talk to me? It’s not like we have any more in common than we did in Lawndale.” They were approaching the dining hall. She hoped he’d take the hint and go away without ruining her lunch.

No such luck. “Daria,” Kevin said a small, frightened voice, a voice she hadn’t heard since Tommy Sherman died, “I uh, I need your help.”

She stopped in the middle of reaching for the door handle and turned to stare at him in open-mouthed shock. Before she could collect herself, her sarcasm gland took over. “What could the great Kevin Thompson possibly need from plain little Daria Morgendorffer?”

Before Kevin could reply, the door behind Daria swung open, knocking her forward into him. He caught her out of pure reflex, holding her for a heartbeat while she got her balance. He let her go just before she could pull away, noting with surprise how light she was.

He gave her the smile that had melted so many hearts at Lawndale High. “How about I take you to lunch, and I’ll tell you about it?”

If he’d hoped to put her at ease, her challenging glare let him know that he’d failed. “I’ll have you know that I am meeting people for lunch,” she said, “but since you’re here anyway, and offering to pay, you can join us.” As she turned from him, she muttered, “At least it gets me out of the damn doorway.”

He followed her through the door and into the main hall, which contained the cafeteria counter. Joining the line of students, they each took an oversized tray and placed it on the counter in front of them. Moving with the line, they reached the spot where surly work-study kids dispensed materials that were only vaguely identifiable as food.

Daria was economical in her choices, getting a garden salad that was for once more green than brown, and a grilled cheese sandwich that had at least been toasted on one side. Kevin, on the other hand, got a huge helping a drippy brown substance that in a happier life would have been beef and a bowl of what looked for all the world like microwave lasagna. Seeing his second choice, Daria gave a Mona Lisa smile. “Better than Lawndale High or my mom’s cooking,” he said and shrugged.

As they reached the cashier—another bored student—Daria gave Kevin an expectant look. He reached into his pocket, and a look of alarm filled his face. After frantically patting himself down, he gave Daria an apologetic look. “I, uh, don’t have my meal card.” Sighing, she reached into her pocket and handed hers over. “You’re not getting off to a good start here, Thompson,” she growled as she took her card back.

Kevin followed Daria across the floor to one of the smaller rooms that adjoined the main dining area. Though it was cramped, with two columns of long tables covering nearly every inch of floor space, the room’s wall-length windows allowed in enough sun to make it seem more spacious, and it was lit well enough for reading even when the sun wasn’t out, which is why Daria and her friends liked it. Those friends hadn’t arrived yet, so Daria took a seat at her accustomed table in the corner. Kevin joined her and for a while, they ate in silence.

“You have atrocious table manners,” Daria said as she picked at her salad. “Were you raised by wolves?” Kevin was shoveling himself full, ignoring both the need to chew and the streams of gravy tracking down his chin. Looking up, he gave her another apologetic look. “We ate mostly burgers and things growing up. My mom isn’t much of a cook, and my dad only likes to barbecue.”

“Never mind,” she said, placing her napkin over the crusts of the sandwich. “Since my friends are obviously not showing,” she allowed herself evil thoughts about the perfidy of supposedly trustworthy people, “we can get this over with. What do you need my help with?”

“Well, I uh….” He rubbed his neck, food forgotten. “I’m a little worried about, uh, why I’m here.”

Daria sighed. “I can’t help you with football, Kevin.”

“No way. Football’s fine,” Kevin said quickly. “After all, I’m the QB!” He gave her a vacant smile.

Daria rolled her eyes and glanced upward. “I hope you’re not looking to discuss philosophy with me, then. Because I don’t think I could take that.”

“Uh, yeah. Whatever, Daria.” He paused, uncomfortable under her steady gaze. “Look, it’s about my schoolwork.”

Daria blinked, but before she could reply, Kevin said, “Look, I’ve got all these classes, and I really don’t understand any of this stuff. Coach says not to worry, but no one tells me what I’m supposed to do. It’s not like it was at Lawndale. I never had to worry.”

“Uh huh,” Daria said, nonplussed. “And what does this have to do with me?”

“Well, some of the guys told me that coach can’t help with the grades, like they did back in Lawndale, but…“ He trailed off.

“But what? Say it, Kevin.”

“Well, they told me that the coaches won’t fix things for you, but they won’t look too hard if you can get someone else to do the work.”

“I see,” Daria said, keeping her voice level. “And what made you think of me? I was never the most charitable person back in Lawndale.”

“Well, you’re the smartest person I know. And you probably have a lot of free time, what with not being involved with the team.” Her expression darkened. “And you probably don’t have to spend lots of time on schoolwork, because you’re so smart,” he added lamely.

“Let me see if I get this straight, Kevin. You’re attending one of the top schools in the country, despite the fact that you can’t count to twenty even with your shoes off, and you’re falling behind, because the only thing you learned at Lawndale was how to spit milk through your nose. The professors aren’t corrupt enough to keep passing you along on football skills, but they’re hypocritical enough to look the other way if you can find some patsy to do all your work for you on top of an already heavy courseload. And the lucky person you’ve selected to help you perpetuate the whole sordid system is me.”

“Well, yeah. I think.” Kevin shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not actually sure what you said.”

“Pardon me for confusing you.” Daria let anger touch her voice. “I’ll put my answer in simple terms so you understand me. No.”

“Huh?”

“No, I will not do your work for you, Kevin. It’s all I can do to keep up in my own classes. There’s no way I’m taking yours, too.”

Kevin gave her a shocked look. “But you have to…”

“Why do I have to? Explain this to me, Kevin.” _This ought to be good_.

“Well, uh, it’s that thing, where you help people from your old school. Solidity.”

“Solidarity?”

“Yeah, that. And it’ll help the team. And, uh,” Kevin, running out of ideas, started babbling. “And we’re old friends, and friends help each other, right? I mean, I’ve done a lot for you—“

“You’ve done a lot for me?” Daria’s voice rose in shock. “Like what? Ignoring and belittling me for three years in Lawndale, and then, when I finally think I’m free of you at one of the best schools in the country, there you are with your idiot grin and your idiot football, getting the same free ride you always have! And when your gravy train’s in danger, you buy me lunch that I have to pay for and expect me to fall all over myself to bail you out! Are you out of your mind!?”

“But Daria, I, uh…” Kevin tried to go on, but Daria’s cold, unflinching glare bored into him. He was never comfortable with her even at the best of times, but the rage he saw reflected in her eyes now froze him to the core.

Daria let him wilt under her glare for a long moment before saying, “I think you’d better go now, Kevin. I think it would be better for both of us.” Her voice was frightening, utterly emotionless.

“Daria, I…”

“Just go, Kevin.”

He fled as quickly as his ego would allow him, not even noticing the pretty red-haired girl he passed in the doorway. Daria, meanwhile, buried her head in her hands, letting the anger drain out of her. “I don’t believe this,” she said into the table, not noticing the red-haired girl setting a tray down and taking a seat next to her.

“So, what’s the matter?” The redhead gave Daria a friendly smile. “You look like you’ve been kicked in the head. Well, more than usual.”

Daria’s head jerked up, but she ignored her friend’s remarks. “Where were you, Colleen? You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago.”

Colleen shrugged, red hair bouncing. “I got cornered by my advisor. Geena and Jerry asked me to give you their apologies. They’re stuck in chem lab and likely will be all day. The experiment went kablooey, and the prof wants them to stay and get it back on track.” She looked down at her tray, prodding the contents suspiciously. “So. What’s the deal?

Daria sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Suit yourself,” Colleen said, swallowing a forkful of something and grimacing. “But I’m here to listen if you want. Beats eating this stuff.” She spared her plate another suspicious glance before adding, “Was that Kevin Thompson I passed on the way out? The jocks don’t usually use this cafeteria, not even the scout-teamers.”

At the mention of Kevin’s name, Daria had half-risen, but at her friend’s words, she stopped. “Did you say scout team? I thought Kevin was the starter.”

Colleen laughed. “I keep forgetting how little you know about sports. Freshmen never start at quarterback. This is Notre Dame, not some podunk junior college. There’s way too much money depending on the football team to trust it to a freshman.”

Daria sank back into her seat, looking thoughtful. “So, Kevin’s not the QB.”

“Since when do you care about Kevin Thompson?” Colleen asked. “You’re the one who didn’t know Notre Dame had a football team.”

The silence hung for a minute, before Daria spoke. “We went to the same high school. It’s a long story if you’ve got the time….”

**Chapter 2: Roughing the Passer**

The next two weeks were not pleasant for Daria. Kevin seemed to be lurking behind every tree, begging her to help. It had bothered her that he managed to make her lose her cool so quickly, so she resolved after her first outburst to remain polite. Kevin’s constant onslaught, however, was playing on nerves already frayed by the pressure of papers and finals, so a blowup was inevitable. The amazing thing, Daria later told Colleen, was that she lasted as long as she did.

Kevin had found her in the library, where she was finishing the last of her research on her history paper. She’d just re-shelved a dull tome on trade patterns in Yorkist England—sparing a muttered “Feh” for London merchant concerns and the Hanseatic Freakin’ League—when she turned to find Kevin looming over her. He did not, however, get very far into his plea this time.

“I am not doing your work for you, Kevin. I am not doing anything for you. Why the fuck can’t you get that through your thick skull and leave me the hell alone?!” Daria barely noticed that she was shrieking by the time she finished.

Kevin noticed, though, if his shocked expression was any indication. “Uh, Daria? This is a library, right? Aren’t we supposed to be quiet in here?”

About to launch into another full-throated tirade, Daria noted the hostile looks of other students, and kept her voice down. “How the fuck would you know? You’ve never been in one.”

“That’s not fair, Daria. I—“

“Make-out time with Brittany doesn’t count. Look,” she continued, “I’ve tried to be polite. I’ve tried to be subtle. Now I’m telling you to stay the hell away from me.”

Kevin’s shoulders sagged. “If that’s the way you want it…”

Daria sighed, anger draining from her. He was too damn pathetic to hate. “What do you need with me anyway? There have to be loads of people who’d be better suited to help you than I am. After all, you’re a football star, and football stars don’t interact with people like me.”

“We did in Lawndale.” Kevin gave her a faintly accusing look.

“Lawndale was a tiny school, Kevin. We had to associate. Besides,” she added with faint malice, “it’s not like we were the best of friends or anything.”

“We talked.”

“You’d say something stupid, and Jane and I would insult you, but you’d never get it. This hardly counts as close bonding.”

“Yeah, but…” Kevin looked away, and Daria was surprised at the pain in his voice. “At least you know me. And you can help me. No one else will.”

Daria blinked. “No one?”

Kevin nodded miserably. “I’m fourth string, Daria. No one cares about some stupid freshman who’s the backup on the scout team. I wish I’d never come to this crappy place.” He kicked at the shelves in frustration, eliciting a solid _thunk_ and more glares from nearby students.

“Um, Kevin? Maybe we should go someplace else and talk.”

“Okay. But where?”

“How about the dining hall.” She gave him a Mona Lisa smile. “You still owe me lunch, remember?”

He laughed. “Uh, yeah. I guess I do.”

Fifteen minutes later found them in the very spot they’d occupied for their first conversation. Kevin had remembered his meal card and the purchase of an ominously cloudy chicken noodle soup for Daria and an altogether unpleasant Sloppy Joe for Kevin had gone off without a hitch. They ate in silence for a while, Daria waiting for Kevin to work up the nerve to speak. She ignored his table manners, which had not noticeably improved.

“I know I’m not the brightest guy on the planet,” Kevin started, and Daria clamped her mouth tightly shut, “but I’m not as dumb as everyone thinks.”

 _Of course not_ , Daria didn’t say. _How could you be and still be breathing?_

Kevin sighed. “You might as well just say it, Daria.”

She gave a guilty start. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Not to my face, anyway.”

Daria felt shamed into speaking. “If you must know, I was thinking that it would be impossible for anyone to be as stupid as everyone thinks you are.”

Kevin, surprisingly, laughed. “That’s a good one, Daria.” After a moment’s pause, he continued. “I didn’t mean to end up stupid, but no one ever encouraged me to be anything else. My Dad only cares about me making the NFL. If he had his way, I wouldn’t even know how to read, ‘cos it would take too much time from football. My mom wants me to do well, but Dad had her convinced that my only way to college was throwing a football.” He sighed. “He’s probably right, too.”

“And none of your teachers did anything to help you.” It wasn’t a question.

“Well, in elementary school, they had some remedial classes for me, so I kept up, but then I hit junior high and school sports. The coach had seen me in Pop Warner, and he made me the starter without even trying me out. All of a sudden, I didn’t have time for extra help, so my grades dropped. But everyone saw the next Tommy Sherman, so no one worried. Especially not me. Same thing happened in High School. I was the starter from Day One. Not even Tommy could say that. And we did win the state championship again, so everyone got what they wanted.”

Daria listened intently, hearing what Kevin didn’t say. “And now you’re here and you’re lost.”

Kevin nodded. “Yeah. The coaches keep telling me everything is going to be fine, but I’m behind three other guys, and one’s a sophomore, so I might not get to play until I’m a senior. That’s if I can hold off the new guys coming in. And if I can’t win a college job, how am I gonna make the pros?”

“And if you don’t…”

“It’s hanging drywall with my dad, or some other loser job. I won’t get a degree the way I’m going, but maybe I’ll get to sell cars or insurance or some other shit. Unless…”

“You pull it together?”

“I pull it together,” Kevin nodded. “I thought about what you said, Daria. Even if I got you to do my work and you managed to get me a diploma, I still wouldn’t have shit. All I’m good for right now is football. I want to be good for something else by the time I get out of here.”

“So you want me to tutor you.”

“Yes, I want you to tutor me. Look, I know I’m in over my head, but if I try, I think I can at least pull off a C-minus. And I’ll know something besides how to check off to my hot read on a corner blitz.”

Daria sighed. “Much as I badly want to laugh in your face, that inconvenient conscience I keep forgetting I have is nagging me to help you.”

“So you’ll do it?” Kevin tried to keep the hope out of his voice.

Daria nodded gravely, “I’ll do it on one condition. You have teach me about football.” She gave him another Mona Lisa smile. “I don’t want to be the only miracle worker around here.”

It took Kevin a moment before he started to laugh.

“…so that’s it,” Daria said mournfully. “I’m bonding with Quinn, and now I’m going to tutor Kevin Thompson. Are you sure you didn’t hit me in the head while I was asleep?”

Colleen laughed. “How would I get in? The blunt head trauma theory is a good one though. Maybe you got a concussion and don’t remember it.”

It was finals week, and the two girls were sitting across from each other, one on each bed, in Daria’s room. Colleen had originally expressed some reservation about using someone else’s bed in such a fashion without permission, but Daria had reassured her. In Daria’s opinion, her roommate was entirely theoretical. The bed was sometimes unmade, and Daria would occasionally see a female figure asleep there or be woken by the sounds of another person in the room, which led her to deduce that she in fact did have a roommate. If the two girls had exchanged five words the whole semester, though, Daria would've had to be reminded of three of them. She didn’t feel the lack, though; Colleen ably filled the role of friend and confidant that some other people swore their roommates did.

“You could knock me unconscious now,” Daria said, “and get me out of this.”

“I might,” Colleen replied, “if you can explain to me why you agreed to do it in the first place.”

Daria shrugged. “I don’t know. Partly shock, I suppose. Hearing Kevin express interest in schoolwork is a unique experience. We’re talking about someone who wrote his senior English paper on _Ratboy_ comics.”

“You’ve told me the stories.” Colleen leaned back. “I just don’t believe them.”

“They’re all true. You can ask him when he gets here if you want.”

“He won’t deny them?”

“This is Kevin,” Daria chuckled. “He might not remember them, but he won’t deny them. Apparently being the QB made him immune to embarrassment.”

Just then, a shrill beep came from the wall intercom, and Daria stood. “That’s probably him. Do you want to stay for the carnage?”

Colleen smiled as she stood. “Nah, I’ll allow you your privacy—if only to be able to say that Daria Morgendorffer had a football player alone in her room all day.”

Daria gave her friend a steely glare. “This is a big campus, you know, Colleen. It’ll probably take them weeks to find your body.”

Colleen laughed as they headed out the door. They chatted as they walked down two flights of stairs and came out into the main lobby. Kevin was standing at the security desk, three-ring binder under one arm, looking uncomfortable. As he noticed the two girls, his face lit up. “Hey,” he said, “introduce me to your hot friend, Daria.”

Daria rolled her eyes, “Kevin, this is Colleen O’Leary, a gifted and accomplished student. Colleen, this is Kevin Thompson, who isn’t.”

Colleen offered her hand. “Daria’s told me a lot about you, Kevin.”

Kevin stared blankly at the proffered hand for a moment before taking it. “She has? I mean, uh, of course she has. I’m the QB.”

“Of course,” Colleen gave Kevin a winsome smile, even as she pulled her hand back. “I have to go, but maybe we can get together sometime. I’d love to hear your stories about life at Lawndale.”

Kevin beamed at this, while Daria gave her friend a quizzical look, which Colleen met with sparkling eyes. “Looks like you were right, Daria. Have fun studying.”

Sighing, Daria led Kevin back upstairs, once again wondering what had possessed her to take on this impossible task.

“So, Daria,” Kevin said, compounding her misgivings, “I never would have thought that you’d be friends with someone that hot.”

Daria nearly closed the door in his face. “Didn’t you say the same thing about Quinn, when you found out she was my sister?”

“Oh yeah.” Kevin followed her in. “Cool room, Daria.”

The room in question was just a normal dorm room, with twin beds on opposite sides of the room and two desks next to each other on one wall. Doors for closets and a bathroom were visible, while two bookshelves and her Kafka poster were the sole indications that Daria was a resident.

Kevin, without asking, took a seat on the same bed Colleen had occupied before. Daria let him get comfortable before asking, “Did you bring the syllabus for each of your courses like I asked you?” He looked at her blankly.

“The lists of books and assignments that your professors gave you on the first day of class?”

“Oh, yeah.” Kevin retrieved several rumpled sheets from within the binder and handed them to Daria, who grabbed a pen from the desk and sat down. Looking over each in turn, she made little ‘hmm’ noises to herself and marked the pages every so often. After a few minutes, she finished. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.”

Kevin, who’d been smiling as he watched Daria review the pages, nodded.

“In two of your classes, the main component of the grade is the paper, so you need to ask for incompletes. If you’d like, I’ll go with you for those, since my classes don’t conflict with the office hours of either professor. The writing class you’ve either passed or failed already, and there’s nothing we can do about it.” Daria sounded very businesslike as she laid out her plans, and Kevin didn’t interrupt. “The last two classes are fairly simple. You just need to do well on the final to pass, so we’ll concentrate on those classes for now, and worry about the others over winter break.”

At this, Kevin’s face fell. “I’ve gotta do schoolwork over winter break?”

“If you want to come back for next semester, you do.” Daria said flatly. “There’s no way you can get up to speed in all four classes in ten days.”

Kevin nodded. “I know. It’s just…”

Daria cut him off. “I’m sorry, Kevin, but if you’re serious, that’s the way it’s going to be. You’re going to spend the break working. There’s no way around it.”

No one spoke for a long moment, though Daria swore she could here Kevin muttering “drywall” and “used cars” under his breath. Finally, Kevin grabbed a book. “Let’s do this thing,” he said in a firm voice. His eyes, though, reflected stark terror.

Daria expression was neutral as always, but she had to admit that she was more than a little nervous herself as she gently removed the telephone book from Kevin’s hands and replaced it with his Modern History textbook. “All right. Modern History. Professor Murchison’s a veteran, so we’ll concentrate on Vietnam for now…”

The middle of finals week found an exhausted Daria at her usual table in the dining hall, face down over what might have been a bowl of soup. A cheerful voice said, “Hey, stranger! Haven’t seen you in a while.” Daria looked up to see Colleen’s freckled face take on a worried expression.

“Finals,” Daria grunted. “You know how it is.”

“Oh yeah.” Colleen gave her plate a brief glare. “Is it me, or is the food getting worse? It shouldn’t be possible.”

Daria smiled briefly, using her spoon to stir the sewage-colored liquid in her bowl. “I wouldn’t know. I never actually eat it.”

“No time, right? What with your extra credit project and all.” Colleen’s mouth quirked up.

“I’d hardly count Kevin as extra credit, except maybe on my karma.”

“Bad?”

“You have no idea.” Daria put her head in her hands. “It’s absolutely amazing what that boy doesn’t know. I asked him what he knew about the Cuban Missile Crisis, and he asked what team the Cuban Missile played for and if drugs were involved.”

Colleen chuckled, and Daria continued. “But I’ve successfully taught him to construct complete English sentences, so he stands a chance of passing, if he can remember anything else we went over. Of course, I’m not holding my breath, since it took me an hour to explain to him that Vietnam is in Asia.”

“Let me guess…” Colleen was rapidly dissolving into giggles. “It took the first half-hour to explain where Asia was.”

“Bingo.” Daria frowned at her friend’s mirth. Her frown deepened when a familiar voice sounded behind her. “Daria! There you are!” She turned to see Kevin standing over her, holding a plain white box.

“Here I are,” Daria said, still frowning. “Aren’t we done for the semester? Your last final was today.”

Kevin nodded. “And both my incompletes were accepted. So I’m all set. Here.” He handed Daria the box.

She took it with some misgivings. “Uh… thanks. What is it?”

“My end of the bargain.” Kevin smiled. “I don’t really have time to teach you about football, but you’re a brain, so I figured you could just read up on it.” He gave Colleen a, “Hey, babe,” which Colleen was unwilling or unable to answer, preoccupied as she was with shoving her fist into her mouth.

Daria opened the box with some misgivings. She lifted out a pair of books and a glossy, shrink-wrapped box. “Hmmm… A biography of Vince Lombardi, a copy of _Football Made Easy_ , and _Madden 2000_ for the PC.” Nonplussed, she looked at Kevin. “Kevin, I have a Mac. You’ve seen it.”

This was too much for Colleen, who dissolved into shrieks of laughter. Daria glared at her friend, disgust written on her face.

“Uh, Daria…” Kevin looked uncomfortably at Colleen, whose laughter had diminished in sound, but not in force. “I’m sorry. You don’t like them, do you?”

Daria sighed. “No. They’re fine, Kevin. Thank you. Now remember to read the books on the list I gave you, and I’ll see you in Lawndale after Christmas.”

“Right. I won’t forget. I’ll call when I’m ready. And I better get packed. My dad’s driving out to pick me up, and he’ll be here tomorrow.” Kevin turned to go with a wave. “See you in Lawndale, Daria. Later, babe,” he added for Colleen’s benefit.

With the source of her humor attack gone, Colleen was able to get herself under control fairly quickly. Smothering a last burst of giggles, she looked over to the door through which Kevin had departed and then back to Daria. “He’s not all there, is he?”

“He’s not there at all, Colleen.” What am I going to do with a computer football game that doesn’t work on my computer?”

“Level your desk?” Colleen gave Daria a considering look. “That was really very nice of him, though, to give you a Christmas gift. He really seems to like you.”

“Oh, please,” Daria snorted. “Kevin Thompson never liked anyone who wasn’t on the football team or the cheerleading squad. The only time he bothers with those of us outside his rarefied circle is when he needs something. Like now.”

Colleen shrugged. “You’d know better than I would.” She quickly changed the subject, and the two friends chatted amiably until Daria left for the library. She had her own finals to worry about.

**Chapter 3: Neutral Zone Infraction**

“You’re **_what_**?” Jane Lane gasped out her question before dissolving into shocked laughter.

Daria gave her friend a flat look. “Thank you, Jane. It’s nice to know I can still count on my close friends to be supportive.”

Daria had been back in Lawndale for nearly a week before she managed to find some time to spend with Jane. After a torturous trip home on the 22nd, Daria felt she needed to be well rested before bracing the Barksdale family nightmare on Christmas Day. The visit with Grandma Ruth went no better.

So far, her day with Jane wasn’t off to a flying start either. Pizza King was fairly empty, what with Lawndale High off for the week. Jane’s laughter actually seemed to echo in the empty pizzeria, and Daria was beginning to get annoyed.

“Jane, is this some strange new definition of the word sympathy that I’ve never heard before?”

The subtle changes in Daria’s voice weren’t easy to spot, but Jane had years of experience. She could easily tell that Daria's irritation was verging on real anger. With a major of effort, she got herself under control and regarded Daria with a serious expression. “One question, Daria. Why?”

“That’s the thing, Jane. I’m not exactly sure.” Daria sighed. “I mean, it’s Kevin; if there’s anyone who deserves to twist in the wind more, I can’t think of them. But whenever I see that earnest, goofy face, I give in. Letting him down would be like kicking a puppy.”

“How cute,” Jane gushed. “You’ve got a crush on Kevin.”

“I will kill you, Jane, and be out of town before they find the body.”

“But what will Tom think?”

“Don't go there.” Daria's voice was cold and flat.

“I thought you were over that.”

“Doesn't mean I want it brought up again.”

Jane raised a warding hand. “Sorry. I didn't realize it would still bother you.”

Daria sighed, “It's just not the way I wanted my first relationship to end.”

“Think how I felt,” Jane said, and Daria's face contorted with horror. Before she could apologize, Jane forestalled her with a raised hand. “It's long in the past. I just don't know why you both thought a long distance relationship would work, with him at Yale and you at Notre Dame.”

Daria's gave her friend a pensive look. “I don't know. I think I felt like we should break up, but I let him talk me into staying together. And then the week before I'm supposed to fly out to see him, I get an email telling me not to come.”

“Hey,” Jane said, “Could have been worse. You could have flown out there and found him with another girl.”

“So I should be grateful to him for sparing me a weekend of teen drama hell?” Daria's voice held a trace of anger, but it quickly drained. “I suppose I should. At least I was able to change the ticket to Lawndale for Thanksgiving. Only cost me $75 more, instead of the price of the whole ticket.”

Jane smiled. “That's the Morgendorffer mercenary streak we all know and love.” After a bite of pizza, she added, “So tell me more about the Kevin thing. Has he said anything stupid?”

Daria's look spoke volumes.

“Okay,” Jane laughed. “What stupid things has he said?”

“Jane,” Daria sighed, “I don't even know where to begin.”

Between them, they put away a pie. After a couple of examples of Kevin's…Kevinness, Daria changed the subject. She and Jane swapped stories about college life and were pleased to see that time and distance hadn't yet dulled their bond. For most of the afternoon, Daria was able to forget the Sisyphean task she'd set herself, until they were ready to go, when Jane asked, “So when do you see him again?”

With a sigh, Daria heaved herself out of the booth. “Tomorrow,” she said. “And I don't think it's going to get any easier. Pray for me, Jane.”

Jane grinned. “Can I start calling you Daria Dolittle?” She ducked the breadstick Daria tossed at her and headed out the door. “Need a ride?” she asked over her shoulder.

“It's not too cold, so I'll walk.”

“See you in a couple of days, then,” Jane said and was gone. Daria pondered the Pizza King for a moment more, thinking how much time had passed since she'd first come here with Jane. Shaking her head to dismiss the reverie, she headed home.

The next day, Daria faced the Thompsons' door with some trepidation. It took her a full two minutes to ring the doorbell, and even then she was ready to flee. _What am I getting myself into?_ She hadn't even wanted to meet Tom's family, and she'd dated him. Yet here she was, frozen, as the door swung open and a balding, chunky man in a track suit regarded her blearily.

“Uh,” Daria said, voice cracking slightly. “I'm Daria Morgendorffer. I'm here to tutor Kevin.”

“Kevin?” He was a big man and his thinning hair was still brown, but he'd clearly run to fat and his face was florid. “Prob'ly in his room.” He ambled off unsteadily, leaving a confused Daria in the doorway.

Before she could move, a woman hurried up to the door. Her track suit matched the man's and her brown hair was up in a ponytail. “Hello. You must be Daria. I'm Kevin's mother.”

Still confused, Daria managed, “Um…hello, Mrs. Thompson.”

“Please, call me Charlene.” She smiled uncertainly. “I'm sorry about my husband. He's—” she trailed off for a moment, “on some pretty strong medication.” _Or drunk off his ass at 5 in the afternoon_ , Daria thought but didn't say.

Before Mrs. Thompson could yell for him, Kevin appeared at the top of the stairs. “Hey, Daria,” he said. He wore a faded Ravens jersey over jeans, and a Lawndale Lions baseball cap. “Come on up.”

“We're working in your bedroom?” For some reason, the thought of entering his room unsettled her.

“Yeah,” Kevin nodded. “I've got plenty of space up here, and well,” he paused, awkwardly, “we don't want to get in Mom and Dad's way.”

“Sure thing, Kevin.” Daria hefted her knapsack and made her way up the stairs. She noticed he made no offer to help, even though she was clearly struggling with the weight.

The top floor of the house had been given over as a shrine to Kevin. An enormous case, filled with Kevin's trophies, covered one wall, and a huge entertainment center with television, stereo, and DVD player covered another. The rest of the walls were covered with posters and newspapers. Some of were Kevin, and some looked like professional football players, doubtless Kevin's favorites. The bed and several dressers sat below the posters, and the middle of the space was dominated by a large table with what looked like a green felt top.

Kevin watched Daria take it all in. “What do you think?” he asked artlessly.

“It,” Daria groped for something, anything, to say, “well, it's definitely something.” _It's like being on another planet. Is there even a single book in this room?_

Kevin smiled hugely. “Thanks, Daria. You can set up on the table.”

As Daria began setting her books on the table, she noticed there was a row of knobs on each side. Wordlessly, she pointed.

Kevin looked sheepish. “It's actually a foosball table,” he said. “But I borrowed the board my dad uses for poker. I figured we needed a place to work.”

Daria rolled her eyes. “Sure, Kevin. Let's just get started.” She'd prepared carefully for today, since they would likely be delving into territory she was unfamiliar with, but she wanted to start on firm ground. “Okay,” she said, opening a notebook. “I want you to take a couple of tests for me.”

“Tests?” he said, his face falling. “That's not cool, Daria. You didn't give me time to study.”

She gave him a long look. “They're diagnostic, Kevin.”

“But I'm not sick,” he broke in.

With a heavy sigh, she continued. “I want to know what you already know and how you learn. We would have done this at school, but we had to get you through your finals.”

“Oh.” At his blank stare, Daria sighed again.

“Alright,” she said finally. “I'm going to ask you a series of questions about American history that a high school graduate should know. Based on how you do, we'll decide what to do next.”

After twenty minutes, she called a halt. Kevin, it was clear, didn't know much about history. He knew some basic things, like what the Constitution was, the first President, and the three branches of government, but he was shaky on details, had no understanding of underlying causes, and was utterly hopeless when confronted with dates. She wasn't surprised that he couldn't answer, “In what year did the War of 1812 begin?” She was slightly disappointed that his answer, “1966,” wasn't even in the right century.

Next, she did some cognitive tests to see what his preferred style of learning was. The results were surprising. She'd expected him to be a visual learner, or maybe tactile, given his success as an athlete. His results were below average in all three areas, though, and his auditory learning with pretty much on a par with the other two.

“Looks like the backup plan,” she said. She'd known all along this was a possibility, but she'd hoped against hope that it wouldn't be necessary. Reluctantly, she reached into the knapsack and pulled out a massive tome with a number of post-its marking pages throughout.

“Is that—“ Kevin paused, excitement and shock growing.

“ _Football Encyclopedia_ , yes.” Daria said, matter-of-fact as ever. She thumbed through it for a moment until she found an appropriate page. “Now, I’m going to ask you some questions from this.”

“Sure, Daria, but you don’t need to teach me about football.” Kevin, if possible, looked more puzzled than usual.

“Never mind, Kevin. Who was the MVP of Super Bowl XXI, and what team did he play for?”

Kevin smiled, on sure ground. “Phil Simms from the Giants. He had one of the best games ever in a Super Bowl. He really should be in the Hall of Fame, you know. His receivers—“

“Thank you, Kevin.” Daria cut him off, not really interested in the debate. “Who holds the all-time record for rushing yards?”

“Walter Payton. But Barry Sanders probably would have—“

“Right again, Kevin, but you can spare me the details. I don’t need to know that much about football.”

“Then why are you asking?”

Daria gritted her teeth. “I’m testing something.” She flipped a page. “Where did the Rams play before St. Louis?”

“Los Angeles, and before that, Cleveland. The Cleveland Rams sounds weird…” Seeing Daria’s expression, he trailed off, and she asked the next question, which he got right. The questions got progressively harder and more complex. To Daria’s astonishment, Kevin didn’t miss one. Details that had taken her a solid week of research to understand on even the most basic of levels tripped easily from Kevin’s mouth. With a sigh, she finally stood.

Kevin looked alarmed. “I didn’t do something wrong, did I, Daria?”

“No, Kevin,” Daria said, deadpan expression in place. “In fact, I think we may be on the verge of a breakthrough.”

Kevin jumped up from the table, narrowly missing banging his knee. “All right!” He raised his hand for a high five, but Daria didn’t move or change expression. Puzzlement replaced excitement. “If we’re doing well, why do you look so gloomy?”

“I’m Daria, remember? I always look this way.” She gathered up her stuff. To her surprise, he gave her a hand with the heavy encyclopedia. “Take a few days off, Kevin. I’ll call when we’re ready to start again.”

“All right! Thanks, Daria.” She headed for the door, leaving him thinking what a shame it was that she never smiled.

“…so it turns out, he’s a football genius.” Daria sat with Jane the next day in their usual booth at Pizza King. Half a large cheese pie still sat between them. “It’s only everything else that he’s a moron about.”

“So all you have to do is relate everything to football and he can be taught.” Jane grinned at her friend.

“I feel like I’ve wandered into a freakin’ sitcom.” Daria complained. “All I need is Potsy to start singing a doo-wop song about blood circulation and we’ll be set.”

Jane laughed. “ _Nick at Nite_ meets _Sick, Sad World_.”

Daria didn't join her. “I thought my life was sick and sad enough, thanks.”

“C'mon, Daria,” Jane said as she nabbed another slice. “Look on the bright side.”

Daria raised an eyebrow. “Bright side? The only bright side I can see involves wraparound coats and heavy sedation.”

“Overstate things much?” Jane took a big bite of her pizza.

Daria looked down at her empty plate. “Yeah, I know. It's just that I spent so much time talking Kevin into shooting his break to hell that I failed to realize I'd be shooting my break to hell, too.”

“You could always change your mind.”

“That would feel too much like giving up,” Daria said. After a moment she added. “Besides, I know it's only Kevin, but he needs me. I have to see this through.” She lifted a piece of pizza, but didn't take a bite. Instead she seemed to ponder it, lost in thought.

Jane gave her friend a long, searching look, before resorting to sarcasm. “Usually, you put the pizza in your mouth. Unless you think you've found another use for it.”

“Sorry, Jane,” Daria reddened slightly. “It's just that I'm worried. In a way, I'm Kevin's only hope.”

“Until he starts to grasp the playbook better,” Jane snorted. “Kevin's fate doesn't rest totally on your shoulders. He won the state championship here, so if he's any good, he'll end up the starter there. And then he won't care about schoolwork anymore.” She steamrolled over Daria's attempts to interrupt. “So don't let Kevin's fate weigh so heavily on your shoulders. He'll get through. That kind always does.”

“So you're saying I should drop this, that it won't do Kevin any good anyway?” Daria's tone was flat, hostile.

“No,” Jane said patiently. “I'm saying that you shouldn't worry about it. I know you, and I know you're not going to give up. But don't beat yourself up when Kevin loses interest. Just pat yourself on the back for doing your best and move on. Kevin will.”

Silence fell. Several times it looked as if Daria was about to say something, but each time, she would pause on the point of speaking, look down at her pizza, and remain wordless. Meanwhile, Jane chewed contentedly. Finally, Daria rose, half her pizza still uneaten. “Thanks for the advice, Jane,” she said, voice toneless, but not hostile.

“Worth what you paid for it,” Jane shrugged and appropriated Daria's leftover pizza.

**Chapter 4: Pass Interference**

Though she'd given Kevin time off, Daria had little to herself. She had to at least begin to organize some basic education around Kevin's football-centric mindset, a task that only grew more daunting as she worked on it. By the time New Year's Eve rolled around, Daria was ready to chuck the whole project forever, or at least for a night.

She was invited to Jodie's Millennium New Years' party, and she'd agreed to go. Jane wanted to, and Daria knew that with both Jane and Jodie on the case, she'd have little chance of getting out of it. Besides, she'd enjoyed seeing Jodie and Mack over Thanksgiving, and she figured it would be nice to see them again.

It was reasonably warm for New Years'—after frigid Indiana, an Elysian paradise for Daria—so she and Jane decided not to bother scaring up a car. They strolled along companionably enough, though mostly silent. As they turned on to the access road to Crewe Neck, Daria said, “So, who else do you think will be there?”

“Jodie and Mack,” Jane shrugged.

“I never would have guessed,” Daria returned with a sour smile. “Quinn said Sandi's throwing a big party for the Lawndale seniors, so we won't see any of the Fashion Fiends.”

Jane nodded. “I heard from Trent.”

“Trent?” Daria raised an eyebrow. “Don't tell me Mystik Spiral is playing there.”

Jane grinned. “It wouldn't surprise me, but no. It was Jesse's brother Danny who was auditioning.”

“Isn't he like fourteen?” Daria asked.

“Sixteen,” Jane said. “From what Trent says, his band is even worse than the Spiral was at that age, but Danny's got a thing for older girls, and he thinks being in a band is the best way to get near them.”

Daria had only met Danny a couple of times, and he seemed immature for his age. The idea of him coming on to seniors was oddly disturbing. “I could happily have gone my entire life without knowing that.” Jane laughed.

Soon after, they arrived at the Landon's imposing McMansion. They were greeted at the door with an affable wave by Mr. Landon, who let them know that the party was around back. As they passed through the gate, they were immediately assaulted with a welcoming squeak. “Daria! Jane! It's so good to see you!”

“Hi, Brittany,” Daria said with a rueful smile. The bouncy blonde looked much as she had during high school, except that instead of her cheerleader uniform, she wore tight denim jeans and a bulky red sweater.

“How are you?” Brittany asked, enthusiastic as ever. “It's so good to be home again.”

“Where are you again?” Jane asked.

“Eastern Kentucky University. Go-o-o-o, Colonels!” For a second it looked like Brittany was going to burst into a full-fledged routine, but she quickly got control of herself. “I'm only on the pep squad now, but coach says I have a good chance to make varsity cheerleading next year if I keep working hard.”

“Good to hear,” Jane said, nodding wisely. “I stayed pretty local. Maryland Institute of Art. It's a good school, though. Very prestigious.”

Brittany nodded, clearly clueless about Jane's school. “And you're at Notre Dame, right Daria? With, you know,” she lowered her voice, as if afraid to summon him by naming him, “Kevin.”

Daria had heard some of the details of Brittany and Kevin's breakup over Thanksgiving. They weren't pretty. But before she could change the subject, Jane jumped in. “Indeed she is, Brittany. In fact,” she grinned maliciously, “Daria's actually tutoring our little star quarterback.”

“Thank you, Jane,” Daria said, acid in her voice. “I so wanted everyone in Lawndale to hear about that.”

Brittany's face took on a look of horror. “Daria,” she breathed, “you're not…interested in Kevin, are you?”

“As a science project, yes; as a human being, maybe; as a potential romance, not in a million years.”

“Good,” Brittany nodded.” Her relief was palpable. Daria wasn't sure if the relief was because Brittany didn't think Kevin was good enough for Daria or because she still harbored feelings for the big mook. She and Jane chatted with Brittany for a few more minutes before heading off in search of Jodie and Mack.

Before they got very far, a rough female voice said, “The Misery Chick tutoring ol' Cubie. That's pretty funny.”

Daria whirled to find Andrea, an enigmatic smile on her face. “And how the hell do you know? Did someone put up fliers?”

Andrea gestured toward Jane. “It's not like Lane whispers.” Jane gave a mocking bow.

“And why do you care, anyway?”

“For one thing, I'd love to watch. I mean, he could barely write his name when he graduated. You must want to kill him.”

“You have no idea,” Daria sighed, as Andrea and Jane both chuckled. “And I'd really rather try to forget about Kevin this week, if you don't mind?”

“What about Kevin?” Mack said as he came up behind Jane. “I thought you said you hadn't seen him, Daria.”

“Don't,” Daria growled at Jane, but Jane, of course, ignored her.

“She ran across Kevin about a week after Thanksgiving,” Jane said. “And now she's tutoring him. Isn't it sweet?”

“Mack,” Daria said, as he stared in slack-jawed shock, “can you ask Jodie how deep her parents' basement is and if they'd mind storing a body for awhile?”

Jane laughed again as Daria glared. Finally, Mack got his expression under control. “Wow. I can't even picture that.”

“And you shouldn't have had to,” Daria said, giving Jane another look.

“This time,” Jane said, “I plead noble intentions. I told Brittany to see what would happen, but Mack has practical experience with Kevin-wrangling.”

Daria looked thoughtful. “That's true. You're off the hook, Lane. For now.” She turned to Mack. “Do you have any advice for dealing with Kevin?”

“Run the other way,” Mack said, reducing Jane and Andrea to further giggles.

“Thank you oh so much for that helpful advice, Mr. Mackenzie.” Sarcasm dripped from Daria's words. “Got any advice that I couldn't figure out on my own?”

“But if you could figure it out,” Mack asked with an innocent look, “why didn't you follow it?”

Overcome, Daria threw up her hands, gave a wordless snarl, and stalked off. Andrea followed shortly after, looking for other entertainment. Jodie, walked over and put her hand on her boyfriend's shoulder. “Was that just Daria I saw? She looks upset.”

“Nothing to worry about, Jodie,” Jane said. “Just having a little fun with her to celebrate the New Year.”

Jodie looked over her shoulder. “Are you sure?

“Give her a minute to cool off. She'll be back.” Jane grinned. “By the way, my compliments to your boyfriend for true evil delivered with a straight face.” Turning to Mack she added. “I had no idea you had it in you.”

Mack took a bow. “Well, that's what college is for. Learning. OW!” He rubbed his shoulder where Jodie had given him a not-so-playful punch. “That was terrible to do to poor Daria, what with all the pressure she's under.”

“What do you mean?” Jane asked.

“C'mon, Jane. I know she told you she's tutoring Kevin.”

Jane blinked. “Well, yeah, but how did you know?”

Jodie shrugged. “Ms. Li sometimes forgets we're not still at Lawndale. She asked Mrs. Thompson to keep her informed about Kevin. She told Li, and Li told my father.” She made a face, “Like there's anything I can or want to do about it. Getting myself though Princeton is more than enough for me.”

“Poor Daria,” Mack said. “So much for her secret.”

“Poor me, you mean,” Jane shot back. “There are dozens of people I won't be able to tell now.”

“Dozens?” Jodie raised an eyebrow. “You didn't talk to dozens of people in four years of High School.”

“Okay, I didn't get to tell you. Happy?” Jane grinned. “Anyway, here's everyone's favorite tutor now,” she added as Daria stomped back around the house toward her friend. “Whaddaya know, Morgendorffer?”

“I know you hate me, Lane, and you've turned Mackenzie against me,” Daria growled. “So, Jodie, you're my only hope for decent conversation.”

“Sorry, Daria,” Jodie said with a smile. “I know, too.”

“Jane tell you?”

Jodie shook her head. “Li's proud of Kevin for making Notre Dame, so now she's proud of you for keeping him there.”

Daria slapped a hand to her forehead. “You're kidding me, right?” At Jodie's level look, she groaned. “You're not kidding. This is ridiculous! Do you think Li'll put a billboard on the Giant Strawberry?”

“Relax,” Jane smirked. “She'll probably only come up with some sort of honor society for Lawndale graduates, and make you a charter member.”

“Only if Jodie gets in, too.” Daria mock-glared at the darker girl.

“That's an honor I'm going to have to decline,” Jodie said, and all four of them laughed.

After she calmed down, Daria and Jane mingled a little. They exchanged pleasantries with some of the other cheerleaders and had longer conversations with some of the other bright kids from her graduating class. Jane was kind enough not to bring up Kevin anymore, so Daria started to relax and enjoy herself. By the end of the night, she was feeling something close to affection for her former fellow students.

Those positive feelings vanished as she and Jane left the back yard. Parked in the street in front of the Landon house was Kevin's red jeep. Its owner was engaged in a clearly heated conversation with Brittany. “But, Babe—” Kevin's voice, though pitched low, carried to Daria and Jane.

“Don't call me babe,” Brittany snapped. “You lost that right when you dumped me in September.”

“But we've broken up tons of times. We always get back together.”

Daria and Jane exchanged glances. “It's dark, so maybe they won't see us if we move slowly,” Daria whispered.

“Right,” Jane whispered back. “Wouldn't want to get caught in the crossfire.”

Just then, Kevin's fell on them. “Hey, it's Daria! Daria's smart, she can fix this!” He started to wave. “Daria! Daria!”

“Keep walking, Daria,” Jane said. “Pretend you didn't hear him.” But Daria had already stopped. “Crap,” Jane sighed.

“Kevin,” Daria said, “there is very little about you I can fix. So why are you bothering me?”

As usual, her attempt to discourage him failed. “I need to you to come talk to Brit!” The object of this statement stood with her hands on her hips, looking nonplussed as Daria began to walk over. Jane followed, unnoticed.

“I've already had a nice conversation with Brittany tonight,” Daria said, giving Kevin a glare. “But,” she added to the other girl, “you've always been kind to me, which is more than I can say, so I'll be happy to have another one if you'd like.” At Brittany's puzzled expression, she gave a Mona Lisa smile. “What would you like to talk about?”

“Hey, wait a minute—“ Kevin started to say, but Brittany overrode him. “I'd like to talk about why I will never lower myself to date, or even be in the same room with, Kevin Thompson again. It's not that we broke up,” she drew herself up, rage in her eyes, “but what he said to me was unforgivable.”

“Ah,” Daria said. “May I handle this, Brittany?”

“Sure,” the blonde said, with a kind of quiet dignity. “I'll talk to Jane.” At these words, a horrified expression crept across Jane's face.

“Now, Kevin. I'm assuming you want Brittany to be your 'babe' again,” Daria said the word babe with some disgust.

“Of course,” Kevin said. “She's so hot.”

“Well, did you or did you not use the words 'trading up' when you broke up before you left for Notre Dame?”

“She said she didn't want me anymore!”

“Forget that,” Daria's eyes bored into his. “Did you or did you not say tell her you were trading up?”

“Yes,” he finally said, a hangdog expression on his face.

“And would you take a starting QB job if the coach only came back to you because his new free agent got hurt?”

“If I had to!” Kevin said. “They're not handing out too many starting jobs in the NFL!”

“Ah,” Daria waved a finger at him. “Brittany doesn't have to. She's got a whole school of guys to choose from, and you don't even go to that school. Why should she come back to you?”

Kevin said nothing and looked sad as Daria continued. “It's not like there isn't a whole school of girls for you to choose from, Kevin. And for reasons that I still don't understand after more than three years now, many members of my gender continue to find you attractive.”

Kevin nodded slowly, an unusually thoughtful expression on his face. He regarded Daria for a long moment before hopping into his car and heading off.

“You owe me,” Daria said to Brittany, and walked off down the street.

“How does she do that?” Brittany asked, looking confused.

“You got me,” Jane returned, her expression matching Brittany's. “Hey, wait up,” she added to Daria's retreating form. When she caught up to her friend, she was surprised to see unshed tears standing in Daria's eyes.

“Hey, hey,” she said. “This time Kevin won't abandon you and the baby,”

“Not Kevin,” Daria choked out. “Tom?”

Illumination filled Jane. After Tom's email, Daria had called him, hoping to talk things out. From what Daria said, Tom had been pretty brutal in cutting the strings. Jane had thought Daria was finally okay about it, but she didn't need to be a mind-reader to know she was wrong. Stopping, she put a hand on Daria's shoulder, and when the other girl turned, engulfed her in a hug. Daria stiffened for a moment, but then sagged against Jane.

“I'm tired of having to be strong,” she whispered.

“I know,” Jane said, patting her back. “But you're stuck with it. It's who you are.”

Daria laughed, an ugly sound, but still a laugh. “Too true.” Straightening, her eyes no longer filled, she added. “Thanks, Jane. I don't deserve you.”

“This is news, amiga?” Jane tore down the street, avoiding Daria's playful slap.

**Chapter 5: Offsides**

Tutoring was scheduled to begin anew on Monday the third, so Daria dutifully trekked over to the Thompsons' at one in the afternoon. Helen had offered to come back to Glen Oaks Lane during lunch hour to give Daria a ride, but Daria, worried about sudden parental enthusiasm, had declined. “I'm already in college, Mom,” she said out loud after hanging up on Helen. “You don't have to push me into extracurriculars anymore.”

This time, when she knocked on the door, she was greeted not by a parent, but by an angry Kevin. “I can't believe you did that, Daria,” he said before she could even say hello. “That was so not cool.”

For a moment, Daria considered playing dumb, but she didn't think even Kevin would be fooled. So she confronted him instead. “What was so not cool about what I did?”

“I thought you were going to help me,” he said. “Now I don't think I can trust you.”

“With what? Your love life? Getting involved in your love life has as much appeal to me as another trip on the _Fairy Princess_.”

“So why did you get involved last night?” he retorted.

“Because you asked me to. You said, 'fix it,' so I fixed it. You are free not to worry about Brittany anymore, and she doesn't have to waste time telling you off.” She smirked, “Something for everyone.”

“And what did you get, Daria?”

His sudden sharpness made her a bit uncomfortable. She had no doubt he was on the wrong track, whatever he was thinking, but the fact that he was on any track at all surprised her. Still, she soldiered on, smirk in place. “I got to shorten my night. If I let you two talk, we'd all still be there.”

“C'mon, Daria.” Kevin smiled knowingly. “I heard what you said last night. It's just like when Brit wouldn't go to the dance with me Junior Year.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You don't have to deny it.” He grinned like he was doing her a favor. “I won't say anything. But it would be really inappropriate. After all, you're basically like my teacher, right?”

“Kevin,” Daria's eyes flashed. “If you're talking about what I think you're talking about, you can stop now. I don't know how many times I have to tell you, but I'm not interested in you. I don't find you attractive in any way. I like guys with brains, who can hold up their end of a conversation, and even thought you've proved to me over the last couple of weeks that you're smarter than a houseplant, you still don't qualify and never will.” She huffed out an angry breath. “Now are we going to do this or are you going to keep wasting my time?”

“Whatever, Daria,” Kevin said, taking a step back. Daria couldn't tell if he was making room or getting away from her, but she crossed the threshold anyway. “Your room again?” He nodded and led her upstairs. They were soon hard at work.

Several hours later, they'd made some progress. One of his papers was for Literature 101. She sketched out some of the basics of literary theory, in terms he could sort of understand. “Everyone sees a novel differently, just like every quarterback seems the field differently,” she said. “You know how most pass plays are designed to give the quarterback as many options as possible?”

“Like the flea flicker in Super Bowl III, when the Colts sent two receivers into the pattern. But Morrall threw to the wrong one and got picked off.” His face lit with sudden insight. “Are you saying you have to be careful which way you look at the book because you can be wrong?”

“Sort of,” she said, silently wishing she could go back to a previous, comfortable existence where she didn't know the names of losing Super Bowl quarterbacks. “It's hard to be wrong about your interpretation, as long as you stay in bounds. You can't focus on something you wanted to happen in the book, just what did. But you can read what happened any way you want to, as long as you can prove it makes sense.”

“Like it made no sense to throw a pick when Jimmy Orr was wide open.”

Daria nodded, and they moved to discussing the specifics about the book, which was Great Expectations. Daria was no fan of Dickens, but she muddled through. When they finished at five, Daria had something like a sense of accomplishment. _Too bad I've got to teach him grammar tomorrow._

Over the course of the next two weeks, she tried to give Kevin the tools he would need to complete his papers. Happily, he didn't bring up Brittany or Daria's supposed infatuation with him, which reduced the temptation to kill him. Somehow, they both made it to Friday the fourteenth.

“That's it, she said, closing her book and looking across the green felt at Kevin. “We've covered everything you need to write your papers. You're on your own until we get back to Indiana.”

Kevin nodded. “I'll start this weekend. They're not due until the first, so I should be able to finish them. Uh,” a nervous look crossed his face. “You'll look them over before I hand them in, right?”

“Yes,” Daria knew this was important to Kevin, but she couldn't help sighing a little. “I'll help you fix the grammar and spelling. And now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to try and enjoy the rest of the break.” Grabbing her backpack, she headed for the door, not noticing Kevin's eyes follow her.

Outside, a surprise waited for her: her mother's blue Lexus. The window rolled down as she approached, and she heard Quinn's voice. “Get in, Daria,” her sister said. “We're going to dinner.”

Daria gave her a suspicious look. “No shopping I hope?”

Quinn laughed. “Get in the car.”

“So what's up, Quinn?” Daria said, as she buckled up. “Not that I mind the company, but I thought you'd be out on a Friday night.”

“Well, I've hardly seen you since you got back, between you tutoring Kevin and my own schoolwork.” She smiled to take the sting from her words. “So I decided we should spend some time together. Sushi OK?”

“Not if it's Tokyo Toby's.”

“Relax,” Quinn said. “The Board of Health finally closed it down. There's a new place over by Chez Pierre.”

“Sounds good, then.”

Quinn navigated the side streets in relative silence. When she successfully merged onto the highway, she finally spoke again. “So, tell me about your afternoon,” she said, in a teasing tone. “I'm dying to know what you and Kevin got up to alone in his room.”

“I can reach your throat from here,” Daria said in a flat tone, “and I'm willing to chance an accident if it means you can't get away.”

Happy to score off her sister, Quinn chuckled and changed the subject. The sisters chatted amiably for the next few minutes and arrived at the restaurant in good humor.

“I've never really developed a taste for sushi,” Daria said as she pushed open the door, “but I'm sure there's something on the menu I'll like.”

“Too late to change,” Quinn said with a smile. The restaurant was long and narrow, with vertical wood paneling on the walls. To Daria's eyes, the place gave an air of neatness and efficiency, nothing like the one time she'd been in Tokyo Toby's. A sushi bar extended halfway down the length of the restaurant along one wall, but it was toward the tables in the back that Quinn headed. “I hate sitting at the sushi bar,” she said over her shoulder in a low voice. “Makes me feel like I'm in a crappy diner.”

“Or Cluster Burger,” Daria added.

“There's a difference?” Quinn deadpanned.

“Point.” Daria felt a sudden rush of affection for her sister, something she would never have imagined eighteen months ago. She took a chair, letting Quinn have the seat against the wall. A waitress came by and dropped off menus. For the next few minutes, they occupied themselves with ordering—Quinn chose sashimi, while Daria got a teriyaki chicken dish.

After the menus were cleared, Quinn gave her sister a teasing smile. “Bet this isn't how you planned to spend your first winter break.”

“You have no idea,” Daria replied. “'Tutor Kevin Thompson' was right down below 'take up firewalking' on my list of things to do over break.”

Quinn laughed. “What I don't understand is how he talked you into it. It's not like you were best of friends in High School.”

“He was just too pathetic to turn down,” Daria deadpanned.

“Be serious, Daria.”

“You're asking a lot.”

“So what if I am?” There was a challenge in Quinn's eyes.

Daria paused for a moment. When she finally spoke, she chose her words carefully. “I'm not sure, Quinn. Asking me took some nerve, and maybe that's part of the reason. But he also seems to want to learn. That's a big selling point.” As Quinn's eyes continued to bore into her, she added, “And he's pretty desperate.”

The redhead's serious expression fell away, and she laughed. “I'll say. I heard he showed up at Jodie's on New Years'.”

Daria gave her sister a flat, unfriendly stare. “That's not what I'm talking about.”

It was Quinn's turn to look thoughtful. “I'm not sure about that. I mean, it all ties together, right? For the first time in years, he's not the football hero, so he's looking for people who knew him when he was. He goes to you for tutoring, he tries to get back with Brittany—“

“Wait?! How do you know that?”

“Puh-leeze, Daria,” Quinn said. “I'm a senior now, which means I know everything.” She laughed. “I wish I could have seen you take him apart.”

Daria half-smiled. “It was sort of fun. The look on his face was priceless.”

“I'll bet.” Quinn's smile faded. “Anyway, try not to get too pulled into this. Kevin wants you around because you're familiar. Even if he keeps wanting to learn, he might not need you to do it.”

“God, I hope so,” Daria said. “There's only so much of Kevin I can take, and I think I've exceeded my recommended allowance for this decade already.”

Quinn gave her sister a weighing look, but before she could ask another question, the food arrived. For a few minutes they ate in silence, and when conversation restarted, they turned to other topics, as if by mutual agreement. All in all, it was a nice night, and if Quinn had certain misgivings, she kept them to herself.


	2. Offense

In the end, winter comes, and with it the championship games, the college Bowl season, and eventually the Super Bowl. The footballs are finally put away, as cold and snows come, bringing winter sports and a breathing space for those who follow the path of the pigskin. Some are forced to surrender their place, while others continue the cycle, focusing on the battles to come. Still others find a space outside football, to lessen its hold make the eventual transition easier. But like with other addictions, the hold is still strong…

* * *

**Chapter 1: Clipping**

Daria hurried to the library. She was bundled up against the Indiana January, with heavy coat, scarf, hat, and gloves, but still the cold wind cut right through her. Classes had begun only a few days ago, but between her work and helping Kevin, she felt like she'd already fallen behind.

On this chilly Friday, the library offered a needed haven, both from the cold and the chaos. Kevin was on his last round of revisions, thanks to a heroic effort on both their parts, which meant she had a day or two to herself to catch up. She yanked the door open, struggling against the wind, and all but leaped inside.

“Hey, stranger,” a friendly voice said, as she was stripping off her hat, scarf, gloves.

“Hey, Colleen,” Daria said, turning to greet her friend. “Sorry, I haven't been around much.”

The taller redhead smiled. “Busy with the Boy Wonder. I know how it is. How's it going?”

“Let's find a place to sit before I get into details,” Daria sighed. “I'd like to have a table to bang my head against if I need it.”

“Careful,” Colleen chuckled. “With that hard head of yours, you'll get kicked out for making too much noise.”

“Remind me again why I'm friends with you.”

“You like abuse, and you want my overflow guys.”

“Or I'm planning to use you as a surrogate and pull out every strand of red hair that my mom wouldn't let me yank from Quinn's head.”

Colleen chuckled soundlessly and led the way to a quiet table in a niche among the shelves. “So before we crack the books,” she said as she sat, “tell me about your adventures in moron-sitting.”

Daria was silent for a long moment, and Colleen scanned her friend's face for telltale signs of anger. All she found was bone-deep weariness. Finally, Daria sighed and spoke. “He's not saying as much stupid stuff. And I can't even be mad at him, because he's really trying. It's just that it's exhausting. I have to explain every concept three or four times, and usually tie it back into football.” Daria's voice began to rise, and her face took on an almost comical frustration. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to match football metaphors to Great Expectations? Without mentioning _South Park_?”

The last was too much for Colleen, who again began to giggle.

Daria sighed. “And the worst part is, I'm so tired after dealing with Kevin that I can barely do my own work.”

“C'mon, Daria. You pulled straight As last semester. I'm sure you'll do fine.”

“I also slept occasionally last semester.”

“True,” Colleen said, and opened the massive textbook in front of her. “Well, we'd better get to work on this problem set, or you'll never get caught up.”

Daria opened her own, and the two friends were soon hard at work. They were halfway though, when a familiar form crossed the edge of Daria's vision. “Shit,” she muttered, and put her face in her hands.

“What?” Colleen started to say before she noticed Kevin at the other end of the aisle. “Maybe he won't see you.”

“I promise you, Colleen,” Daria said from between her hands, “I've never been that lucky.”

Sure enough, Kevin started over. “Hey, Daria,” he said. “Uh, are you okay? You look upset,” he added, noticing her posture.

“I'm fine,” she said, still not looking up. “I'm meditating. It's something brains do.”

“Is it something I should know about? I mean, now that I'm getting smarter?” Noticing Colleen for the first time, he gave her a winning smile. “Hey, babe. Good to see you again.”

“Hey, Kevin,” the redhead replied in a throaty voice. “It's good to see you too.” Daria was torn between gratitude that her friend had deflected Kevin, if even for a moment, and shock that she seemed to be showing interest in the big goof.

“So,” he said, momentarily having forgotten Daria, “maybe you and me could go out tonight, babe. I know a great place off campus.”

Colleen lowered her eyebrows seductively, ignoring Daria's eyeroll. “That sounds wonderful, but I hear you've got homework.” She raised a hand to forestall his protests. “You're not going to try to get out of homework in front of the teacher, are you?”

Kevin jumped, suddenly remembering Daria's presence. “Oh, hey, uh, I'm, that is, Daria.” He tried to sputter apologies until she cut him off.

“Is it too much to ask why you're here, if it's not to interrupt my already very limited study time?”

He winced at the acid in her tone. “Sorry, Daria. I just came by to check some references and grab a dictionary. I don't have net access in my dorm room.”

“Makes sense.” Daria felt foolish for snapping at him, and then angry at herself and him. I will not apologize to Kevin Thompson, she snarled at herself. “The reference section is on the other side of those shelves. Ask the reference librarian if you need help getting on the computers.”

He bobbed his head by way of thanks, and then gave Colleen another smile. “See you later, babe.”

As soon as she was gone, Daria rounded on her friend. “And what do you think you were doing?”

“Finding something out,” Colleen said.

“You're not seriously attracted to him, are you? Because if you are, I might have to find a new friend.”

“Daria, when am I ever serious about anything?”

Daria conceded the point, but her friend's Cheshire Cat grin was disconcerting, to say the least. Attempts to get back to work failed. Kevin's interruption had derailed her, and Colleen's secret amusement kept her from getting back on track. Finally, she gave a huge sigh, closed her book, and stood. “I'm going to head back to the dorm,” she said. “I'm not getting anything done here.”

“You okay?” Colleen asked.

“Yes,” Daria said, a wry tilt to her mouth. “I just want to get out of here before I catch whatever brain-eating disease has caused you to start putting the moves on Kevin Thompson.” She gathered up her stuff and headed out, Colleen's laughter fading behind her.

After the weirdness of Friday, Daria decided to take to her door room over the weekend. She ignored phone calls from Colleen, their friends Jerry and Gina, and even Jane, in favor of getting at least somewhat caught up on her own reading, before drowning in the last wave of the tsunami known as Kevin Thompson.

She'd blocked out time for him on Sunday and Monday night so she could review his papers before he handed them in on Tuesday. She wasn't actually sure he'd get them done, but he showed up right on schedule Sunday night, clutching what looked like a wad of crinkled waste paper.

“Are you sure that's your paper?” Daria said as she opened the door to let Kevin in the room. “And not something you used to clean up after the last keg party?”

“Of course not, Daria,” he said, either ignoring or missing the sarcasm as he tried to smooth out the pages. “This is the final draft, just like you told me.”

“Of course it is,” she said with a sigh. “Good night, Kevin,” she added as she took the mass of paper, and set it on her desk for later attention. When she turned, Kevin was still there, looking confused. “Uh, Daria...,” he started, but she cut him off.

“Editing is not a spectator sport, Kevin. Believe me, you'd find it even duller watching me work than I'm going to find it actually doing the work. It'll be better for both of us if you just go away.”

“Oh, okay,” Kevin said. A look of mingled understanding and relief crossed his features. “Good night, Daria,” he added and smiled.

“Good night, Kevin,” Daria said firmly.

It took her awhile to finally work up the nerve to look at his paper. She saw he'd finally given it a title, and his choice, “The Playbook for Great Expectations,” nearly made her give up then and there. But a promise was a promise, even if it was made to Kevin Thompson, so she gritted her teeth and got started.

Even though she'd worked with him through a couple of drafts, she was worried that his final output would be unreadable, but to her surprise, it wasn't as bad as she'd feared. Most of his grammar was sound, if elementary: short sentences, few adjectives, and almost no use of dependent or independent clauses. But very few words were misused, and despite the title, the football references were limited. His spelling was appalling, but she could solve that by reminding him to run the spell check.

It took her about two hours to correct the eight-page paper, but she felt a glow of satisfaction when she was done. The paper wasn't the height of lit crit or anything, but Kevin seemed to have a grasp of the basics of the book—enough to get him the C he needed to pass the class, anyway.

She returned the edited Lit paper to Kevin on Monday morning before class. To her surprise, he tracked her down in the early afternoon with his other paper. This one was for a class called “The History of Television,” which apparently existed for the sole purpose of giving student athletes at least one easy course a semester. Kevin's work was similar in style to the Lit paper, but Daria had reminded him in the morning to run the spell checker and give her an electronic copy of the file, so her work went much faster.

She considered emailing the file to Kevin, but decided giving him the hard copy in person would reduce the possibility of disaster. She felt weird about calling Kevin, which contributed to her short temper on the phone. “Get your ass over here if you want your damn paper,” was probably not the friendliest thing she could have said, but Kevin took it with good grace, and was there in fifteen minutes.

“So I'm all set?” he said when she opened the door.

“That depends on whether you want to pass second semester,” she said.

“Harsh, Daria. I meant for first semester.” He gave her an earnest, almost pleading look.

An involuntary half-smile crossed her lips, as she handed him the printout and disk. “I can't see any reason why you won't pass either class.” Annoyed at herself for smiling, she added, “Especially since one of them is History of Television.”

Undeterred, he plowed on. “I know I've got to hit the books again soon, but for now, I want to celebrate. I think I'm going to ask your hot friend out. Kelly, right?”

“Colleen,” she said with a sigh.

“Right, Colleen! She's really something.” A thought seemed to cross his mind. “It's okay with you, Daria?”

“Why would I care? Colleen's old enough to make her own bad decisions. Besides,” she said, “even though she seems to have caught a brain-eating virus over the last week, I still don't think you have a shot.”

He laughed, as if he actually got the joke, which sort of worried Daria. “We'll see about that, Daria,” he said with a smile. “And thanks again,” he added as he turned to go.

Left alone, Daria could only shake her head and get back to her own work.

She spent the next day infected with morbid curiosity. She didn't see Kevin, which would normally be a cause for rejoicing, but she really wanted to know whether he'd asked Colleen out. Her other source on information on that front, Colleen herself, was also not around, leaving her to stew over the situation.

Her friends Jerry and Gina joined her for dinner. A couple, they were Daria's closest friends at Notre Dame after Colleen, who was still very much on Daria's mind. “Have you seen Colleen today?” she asked, as the two took seats across from her.

Gina, short and pleasingly plump with a pretty face and dirty blond hair, responded. “Nope. Why do you ask?”

Daria shrugged. “Just some weirdness. You know Colleen. She considers it a day wasted if she hasn't messed with someone's head.”

“Ain't that the truth,” said Jerry. He was something of a beanpole with jet black and a prominent Adam's apple under an otherwise unremarkable face. “I think mind games actually make her orgasm. Ouch!”

“Serves you right,” Daria said, while Gina, who had kicked him under the table, just smiled.

“So what's the weirdness,” Jerry asked. “Is it something to do with your tutoring gig?”

“What makes you say that?” Daria asked, raising an eyebrow.

It was Gina who answered. “Because everything about your tutoring job is weird.”

Daria's expression soured. “Good to know I can always count on my friends for support.”

“Hey,” she said, turning to smile at Jerry. “We call 'em like we see 'em.” Turning back to Daria, she added. “So what is it about your tutoring job that has you freaked? And how is Colleen involved?”

“I didn't say it was about Kevin,” Daria snapped.

Gina caught Daria's eyes, while Jerry just shook his head and laughed. “Of course not,” Gina said. “Colleen's been hitting on him, hasn't she?”

Daria blinked. “You know, I'm usually the one pulling things out of thin air to surprise other people,” she said after a moment. “I'm not sure I like you stepping on my lines.”

Gina laughed. “Come on, Daria. It's not that hard to figure out. You're you, and Colleen is Colleen. And your Kevin is a good-looking guy, even if he is an idiot.”

“He's not my Kevin!”

“Sure,” Gina said. “I'm going to guess that Colleen's been leading him on, and he's either going to ask her out or has asked her out.” Before Daria could confirm or deny, she kept going. “All of which leaves me with just one question: Why do you care?”

“I'm concerned that Colleen's caught a brain-eating virus and I'm afraid it's contagious.” Daria said.

Gina glanced at Jerry, who looked back at Gina. “Right,” they said in unison, drawing the word out.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Daria demanded.

“It means that a cute guy wants to ask your hot friend out, and not you,” Gina said. “And that's freaking you out.” She raised a hand at Daria's outraged expression. “Hear me out,” she said. “It's not that Colleen's into Kevin, but that you're afraid you may be getting interested in Kevin.”

“Why do people think I'm into Kevin Thompson?” Daria nearly shouted. “My sister, my friend Jane, Kevin himself, now you!” Daria threw up her hands. “Yes, he's handsome! I admit it. But he's totally self-centered and only interested in football. And he's so dumb that he's routinely outsmarted by cheese! Is this is the type you guys think I fall for?!” Feeling heads turn toward her after her outburst, Daria now wanted nothing more than the sink through the floor.

Into the silence fell Jerry's voice. “Well, you did say he was handsome.”

At that, something burst in Daria. Rising, she raked her friends with an angry glare. “You know what? Usually the company makes up for the food, but tonight the food doesn't make up for the company.”

As she stalked from the dining hall, she failed to notice the twin smirks that her friends shared at her expense.

**Chapter 2: False Start**

Daria's anger blew over by bedtime, but her anxiety about Colleen and Kevin continued into the next day. No matter what Gina and Jerry said, she knew damn well that she wasn't attracted to Kevin Thompson. Leaving aside his obvious idiocy, the way he'd treated Brittany in High School was a permanent turnoff. And the fact that Brittany had treated him in much the same way didn't change that.

So where did Colleen fit? Even Daria couldn't help but notice how beautiful her friend was. Compared to Colleen, fellow redhead Quinn looked like Daria. But in the months they'd known each other, Daria couldn't recall her mentioning a boyfriend or begging off plans to go on a date. And now she was putting the moves on Kevin Thompson, who clearly and beyond the shadow of a doubt, did not know how to treat a woman.

Hearing her name shouted as she walked across the quad between afternoon classes only heightened her unsettled state. When she turned and saw Kevin striding toward her with an ear-to-ear grin, it was all she could do not to break into a run. Instead, she put on her most forbidding expression and held up a hand. “I don't have to see you until next week, so I don't have to listen to you until then. So whatever it is, I don't want to know.”

Kevin's smile faded, but only a little. “I just wanted to tell you—“

“Ah, ah,” she said and waved a finger. “No talking. I don't have time for you right now, so whatever it is will have to wait until next week.”

“Fine,” Kevin said and slouched off, leaving Daria to vent a relieved sigh.

“Wow,” a voice behind her interrupted her moment of contentment. “You just blew off a football player.”

“And tomorrow I'm going to juggle textbooks while riding a unicycle.” She turned at the sound of chuckling to see a guy she recognized from one of her lit classes. She couldn't remember his name, though.

“Hey, Daria,” he said with a shy smile on his otherwise plain face. “I didn't know you were funny.”

“Neither did I,” she said dryly, hoping he'd take the hint.

“I'm Eddie, by the way,” he said, offering a hand. “You sit in front of me in The Modern Novel.”

Somewhat reluctantly, she took it and they shook. “Listen, Eddie, I'm sorry, but I wasn't kidding when I told Kevin I have no time.”

“That's OK, Daria,” he said. “I'll catch up with you in class.” Confused, Daria watched his retreating form for a moment before shrugging and heading off to class.

Colleen finally turned up at dinner. For once, Daria had chosen to eat in the dining hall in her own dorm, Farley Hall. She was surprised when halfway through the meal, Colleen slid into the empty seat opposite her.

“I heard you've been looking for me,” she said with a suitable ominous deepening of her voice.

“From who?” Daria said, mildly. Now that Colleen was here, she decided to underplay things for all she was worth.

Colleen laughed. “No one, actually,” she said in her normal tone of voice. “But I know you.”

Daria looked down at the brownish lumpy thing on her plate that was supposed to be Salisbury steak. “I was going to ignore you for the food, but the moment of madness passed.” She sighed. “Yes, I've been looking for you, Colleen. Kevin told me Monday that he was going to ask you out.”

Colleen showed her Cheshire Cat grin again. “And?”

“And I wanted to find of years of therapy would be enough or if I should have you put down as a mercy to yourself and others around you.”

“Careful, Daria. You might get lost in all that hyperbole and not be able to find your way to shore.”

“I'll take that chance.” Daria's eyes narrowed. “Now spill.”

Colleen's smile faded. “Yes, Kevin did ask me out. We went out last night. Dinner off campus and he walked me back here.”

Daria felt a stab of worry, but quickly covered it. “Then I'm sorry, but you're going to have to come with me. I can promise it will be quick and painless. Your next of kin will be notified immediately.”

“Ha, ha.” Colleen gave her a searching look. “Why does this bother you so much? It's just a date.”

“It's never just a date with a guy like Kevin. Either he's trying to hook you in and make you his 'babe,'” she nearly spat the word, “or he's using you while he's cheating on some bimbo. Either way, you're being taken advantage of, and I don't like seeing it happen to anyone, much less a friend of mine. Especially when I know you're much smarter than the usual empty headed blowup dolls he goes after.”

Daria wasn't sure what reaction she expected after her little rant, but peals of laughter wasn't it. “Care to share?” she said, irritation in every line of her face.

Her expression quickly sobered Colleen. “Sorry. I just don't know why this is freaking you out. One date is one date.”

“It's one date with someone who treats women like shit.”

“It's one date with someone who used to treat women like shit.” Colleen's response was mild. “I know you know him better than I do, but right now, even with your help, he's still pretty scared and lonely. Besides,” she added, a wicked grin again lighting her features, “it's fun to hear what you were like in high school from another perspective.”

“Now I know you're crazy. There's no way Kevin Thompson had anything to say about me on his date.”

“Au contraire, my dear Daria,” Colleen said. “You were a major topic of conversation. And I didn't even have to bring you up.” She winked. “Thought I admit I did turn the conversation back a couple of times, but you know me. I can't resist a good information source.”

“So you are playing mind games,” Daria said with a mixture of disgust and amusement.

“Oh, sure,” Colleen said with a flip of her hair. “But who says I'm playing them with Kevin?”

“I still haven't given up on the idea of having you put down, you know.”

“Oh, come on, Daria. It's just a date. Look, I know your breakup with whatshisname was rough. And you told me how that whole thing started, so I know that wasn't any easier. But that's just one situation. Most of the time, you go out with a guy, and you decide if you like him. If you do, you go out again and maybe something good comes of it. If not, you blow him off and that's the end of it.”

“So are you going to blow Kevin off?” Daria asked.

“Haven't decided yet. Are you going to start dating again?”

The corner of Daria's mouth turned down. “Even if I wanted to, it's not like guys are lining up to ask me.”

“Look around, Daria. I think you'll be surprised.”

The next day, Colleen's words proved to be prophetic. The Modern Novel was her second class of the day, and when she got there, she found Eddie already waiting. He gave her a cordial hello, which she returned before settling in for fifty minutes of stultifying boredom. Modernism was not one of Daria's favorite literary styles to begin with, and Dr. Moscardones, a small birdlike woman with a droning voice that made Daria's sound animated, treated her freshman class with a mixture of contempt and indifference that Daria found difficult to swallow.

Halfway through class, she was roused from her near-somnolent state by a tap on her shoulder. Turning, she found Eddie leaning forward to whisper, “Can you hang around after class? I want to talk to you.

She nodded and tried to return to her torpor. Her mind was racing too quickly, though. Maybe he needs a study buddy. I hope not, though. I have enough on my plate with Kevin. Or maybe he just wants to look at my notes. Colleen's words about dating drifted through her mind more than once, but she squashed them. Guys don't want to date me. If they bother with me at all, it's because they want my help.

The last twenty minutes of the class finally dragged by. As the bell rang, Dr. Moscardones tried to get the class to finish The Sound and the Fury for Tuesday by insinuating that they wouldn't. Daria ignored the professor as she gathered her things. Once outside the classroom, she spotted Eddie and for the first time took a good look at him. He was relatively tall, with a long face, but not an ugly one, under short brown hair. His eyes were a deep brown and his shoulders were broad but he wasn't bulky. When he caught her eye, she noticed that his smile was very bright.

“Hey, Daria,” he said. “Thanks for waiting.”

“No problem,” she said. “I'm not in as much of hurry today. So what can I help you with?”

“Well,” he said, suddenly nervous, “it's, uh. I wanted to ask you....” He drifted into silence and began rubbing the back of his neck.

_He can't be about to do what I think he's about to do, can he?_ Suddenly nervous, Daria took refuge in her oldest defense: sarcasm. “Yes, Eddie, I will support your effort to become the world's worst stand up comic. But not right now, if you don't mind. When I said I wasn't in as much of a hurry, I didn't mean I had no place to be.”

For a second, Eddie's face fell, making Daria feel guilty, but then he laughed suddenly. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I funked out for a second. Do you want to go out to dinner with me?”

Daria blinked, as for a moment the words didn't register. When they did, a sudden rush of painful memory swallowed her. She'd been so sure Tom's sudden distance a month into first semester had to do with schoolwork, sure enough to buy tickets to New Haven for the third weekend in October even though they hadn't spoken in two weeks. And then came the fateful phone call.

If she concentrated, she could still hear Tom's voice cutting through her, berating her for being clingy and self-centered, telling her they didn't have a future and had never had a future, and that no matter what she made of herself, she'd never be good enough for him. She'd hidden the pain and gotten through the semester, but three months later, she still wasn't eager to take the risk again. But here was Eddie, eyes brown and guileless, promising nothing more than a nice dinner. “Colleen, you bitch, I'm going to kill you,” she muttered.

“I didn't catch that,” Eddie said with a smile. “Was it a yes or a no?”

“Sorry. Just thinking out loud about something a friend said.” For a second, she balanced on the knife edge of indecision, torn between old pain and new possibilities. Finally, she gave him a characteristic Mona Lisa smile. “I'm in. When would you like to go?”

“How about tonight, if you're not busy?” She could hear barely contained excitement in his voice.

“Sure thing,” she said, wishing her own voice were more expressive. “Meet me in front of Farley Hall at seven?

His wide grin was all the answer she needed.

The problem, as Daria confessed to Colleen later on, wasn't that it was a bad date; it was that it wasn't really a good date. Oh, Eddie showed up on time, dressed reasonably well, and did all the holding doors and pulling out chairs that a well-mannered young man would do. And the restaurant itself was a nice place, intimate and cozy without being oppressive. The food and the service were both good. The only thing lacking was any kind of mental or emotional connection.

Things got off to a decent start, as they discussed the class they shared and their dislike of Dr. Moscardones. The newness of the college experience and of the Midwest—Eddie was from Washington State—was also fertile ground for conversation, but once they got to likes and dislikes, things began to unravel. In discussing his hobbies, Eddie uttered the fatal sentence, “I don't really read fur fun,” and Daria's face closed. She didn't fare much better when she noted that her skill with electronics barely extended past on switches. Given his sudden frown, she wasn't surprised when she learned he was a born tinkerer.

They valiantly tried to recover, complimenting the food and each other's outfits: Eddie wore a blue shirt and black slacks, while Daria had on a form-fitting sweater in her customary forest green over a pair of tight jeans that showed off her legs to good effect. Still, it wasn't enough to fill the gap between them, and Eddie's fondness for gangsta rap, a genre Daria despised, made a fitting last straw for the evening.

The walk back together wasn't too unpleasant. By returning to the commonalities–their unpleasant Modern Novel professor—they managed to keep the conversation going until they arrived back at Daria's dorm. Unsure of what to say or do, Daria began fishing for her keys.

“So?” Eddie asked, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

“Oh,” Daria said, having found her keys. “Sorry, Eddie. Thank you very much for dinner. And,” she added after another awkward moment, “I guess I'll see you in class next week.”

She could see his face fall slightly, but he took it in stride. “Cool. See you then.” He turned to go as she let herself into the dorm building.

“So even after all that, he looked upset that we weren't going to be going out again.” Daria sighed the next morning. “I don't understand it.”

Colleen, sitting across from her at breakfast, shook her head in disbelief. “He's a guy, Daria!”

“So? We've got nothing in common and he knows it.”

“Yeah, but he probably doesn't care. You're an attractive woman, so he'll probably go out with you as long as you let him.”

“That doesn't make any sense. We're never going to be able to build a relationship when we have so little in common.”

Colleen laughed. “Who said anything about building a relationship? Consciously, I'm sure he liked the idea of having a smart, pretty girl on his arm. Unconsciously, he's probably operating on the theory that if you go on enough dates, you'll end up sleeping together.”

Daria regarded her redheaded friend in blank shock. “That's ridiculous!” she finally blurted.

“Of course it is,” Colleen said. “But it's true just the same.”

“So every guy is subconsciously looking to get in my pants?”

“Only the nice ones,” Colleen chuckled. “A lot of guys know the number of dates they'll go on before they expect you to put out. And for some of them, that number is one.”

“So, what's Kevin's number?” Daria had tried to make it a joke, but her voice took on a nasty edge.

Colleen's smile didn't change, but the tone of the conversation somehow did. “Careful, Daria. If you ask that question again, I just might answer it. And I'm not sure either of us could handle that.”

Daria felt herself getting angry again, but unlike last week with Jerry and Gina, she chose not to give in. “You're probably right,” she said, and forced a half-smile. “I'm sorry if I've been a little bitchy lately. My relaxing week hasn't turned out so relaxing.”

“Look on the bright side. Soon it'll be over, and you won't have to worry about trying to relax, because you'll have no time.”

Daria shot the still smiling Colleen a sour look. “You have no idea how much that comforts me, Colleen.”

“Oh, I can guess.”

Neither girl lingered over breakfast. Daria had morning classes and planned to spend the afternoon in the library. Since tutoring with Kevin was starting up again on Sunday, she wanted to get as far ahead in her own classwork as she could. Things went according to plan until close to dinnertime, when head down over a weighty history book, she began to have the unpleasant sensation of being watched.

Sure enough, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted two girls watching her with unfriendly looks. Wondering what she'd done to earn their enmity, she tried to concentrate on her book, but their eyes on her prevented her. After about ten minutes, she decided she could take no more and stood. “Is there a problem?” she asked, as she walked over to their table.

The darker-haired of the two met her eyes. “No. There's no problem.”

“Then why were you staring at me?”

“What makes you think we were staring at you?”

“Well, my first clue was when I caught you staring at me.” Daria rolled her eyes. “Look, if I've done something to offend you, let me know and I'll stop if I can. If not, please leave me alone. I have a hell of a lot to do.”

The dark-haired girl continued to glare, but her companion, a petite blonde with wide eyes blurted, “It just doesn't make sense!”

“What doesn't make sense?” Daria asked, as the larger girl turned her glare to the blonde.

Undaunted, the blonde continued. “I mean, you're not bad looking or anything, but you're not a hottie, and you don't dress fashionably, so why would a football player be interested in you?”

“Whoa, whoa!” Daria raised her hands as a terrible suspicion rose in her mind. “A football player interested in me? What gave you that idea?”

“Well, the first clue was when Kevin Thompson started spending all his free time with you.” The dark-haired girl threw Daria's words back in her face.

“I don't believe this!” Daria barked, earning her a glare from several people around her. “It's like Lawndale, but worse,” she continued, her voice lower but no less angry. “Do you seriously have nothing better to do at one of the better schools in the country than keep track of who a fourth-string quarterback dates?”

The two girls, taken aback at Daria's fierceness, could find no response.

“Kevin and I went to high school together, which is why I am tutoring him.” Daria raked them both with a death glare. “So you can take that information back to whatever Gossip Hell you escaped from and leave me alone.” Without another word, she turned and stalked back to her table.

**Chapter 3: Too Many Men on the Field**

The next two days were only slightly more productive than her library foray, so Daria was in what could charitably be called a foul mood when the wall buzzer heralded Kevin's arrival for his study session. She expressed her irritation by greeting him over the intercom with a hearty, “What the hell are you bothering me for?” His puzzled response, “Uh, to meet your for our tutoring session?” did nothing to reduce her annoyance, but rather than unleash a blistering string of profanities, she turned around and stalked from her room without further speech.

On her arrival at the check-in desk, Kevin gave her an attempt at a mollifying smile, but she chose not to accept it. Without even looking at him, she signed him in and turned back to the hallway with a grumbled, “Come on, dumbass.”

Silence reigned until they reached her room. “I see you did follow me,” she said as she unlocked the door. “Pity.”

A soft touch on her shoulder shocked her, and she whirled to find Kevin looking concerned. “Something's the matter, isn't it?”

Raw anger surged through her but she struggled to channel it. Here was this man-child, this idiot who was the source of at least half her problems, asking if something was wrong. “No, Kevin,” she growled, hoping sarcasm would provide an outlet for her rage. “Everything is fine. Why wouldn't it be fine? It's not like life has gotten even stupider than it was in Lawndale! Between you dating my best friend, me having no time to do my own work, and idiot girls stalking me for oppo purposes, things couldn't be better!”

“Come on, Daria,” he said. “Even I can tell you're being sarcastic. How can I help?”

“You can get the hell out of my goddamn life is how you can help!” Daria was almost screaming. “You can go back to planet Football and get ready for your fulfilling adult life as a performing fucking monkey and let me get through college without killing you!” She was about to expound further on Kevin's stupidity and general uselessness when she read the pain in Kevin's eyes. She suddenly realized that she could hurt him, badly. Anger drained away, replaced with shame. “Kevin, I'm sorry,” she said.

“For what?” he said, in that same little boy voice he'd used when all of this started. “You didn't say anything that wasn't true.”

“Kevin...,” she started to say, but he cut her off. “I won't waste any more of your time, Daria. And I'll stop bothering Colleen so you won't have to see me anymore.”

“Kevin,” she said again as he turned toward the door. “Please don't go.” To her shock, she found that she meant it.

“Why not?”

“I had no right to speak to you like that,” Daria sighed. “I keep forgetting that you have feelings, too, and I need to respect them.”

“But all that stuff you said?”

“Was me taking out my frustrations on you after a bad week. All this stuff that's connected to you has been pissing me off, but none of it is your fault. You haven't said or done anything wrong since we got back.”

“So, you're not going to yell at me anymore?” A smile once again grew on his face. Privately, she thought it suited him well.

“I can't promise that,” she said and half-smiled in return. “But I won't blame you for things that aren't your fault, and I'll try not to be such a bitch to you while we work together.” Before he could protest her word choice, she gave him a penetrating look over her glasses. “Shall we start with Chem 101?”

“That depends?” Kevin said. “You're not going to act like Mrs. Barch, are you?” Despite herself, Daria laughed.

After that, the session went very well. Daria didn't lose her temper once, and for the first time, Kevin felt like he'd learned at least a tiny little bit about science. That night in bed, he thought about how productive the day had been. He seemed to see Daria's eyes staring down at him, promising understanding and compassion. He'd never before realized how pretty they were.

Over the next few days, Daria's new, more positive outlook continued, to the relief not only of Kevin, but also her friends. Colleen, Jerry, and Gina all commented on it when the four were next together for lunch on Wednesday afternoon.

“Happy Daria is certainly an improvement, Gina said, “even if the food isn't.”

“How would you know?” Daria said. “You've never seen Happy Daria. And the last person who did is buried along a lonely stretch of road in West Virginia.”

“Well, I'll settle for less-unpleasant Daria,” Colleen said with a smile. At Daria's mock frown, she added. “If only to rate a grave near a major highway.”

“So what's got you in a better mood, Daria?” Jerry asked. He looked down sadly at his Sloppy Joe, which featured consistencies and colors that did not appear in nature.

“I'm betting she finally got laid,” Gina said.

Daria fixed her with a death glare and defiantly ate a forkful of brownish salad.

“Gina! You've gone and made her try to kill herself!” Colleen remarked. “Besides, I can tell Daria hasn't had sex recently.”

“Oh,” Daria said, quirking an eyebrow, “I can't wait to hear this.”

“Come on, Daria. We know you eat your mates after sex.” Gina and Jerry laughed.

“Project much?” Daria said. “And you've got a little blood,” she pointed to the corner of her mouth, “right there.”

“She's got you there,” Gina said with another laugh. Jerry and Colleen both joined in.

“So what has got you feeling better?” Jerry asked.

Daria shrugged and choked down another forkful of salad. “Dunno. I guess I decided to stop acting like the weight of the world is on my shoulders. I'm still too busy, but that's not anyone's fault. It's just because I'm in college and I'm me, so I won't take shortcuts.”

“And Kevin?” Colleen asked, eyes suddenly piercing.

“We talked.” Daria said. “And I decided to treat him like a human being, not a heavy bag.” At Colleen's widening smile, she raised a forestalling hand. “But I'm still not interested in him, so you can keep doing,” she waved her hand dismissively, “whatever it is you're doing with him.”

Colleen chuckled. “So nice of you to give your consent.”

“I have to go with Daria on this,” Gina said. “I know Kevin Thompson is dishy, but I've heard about him from people besides Daria, and they all say he's dumber than a box of rocks.”

“Hey, as long as we're having fun,” Colleen said, “or at least I'm having fun.”

As the chatter continued, Daria felt a sense of comfort and pleasure she'd rarely had since coming to Notre Dame. She was with friends who valued her and cared about her. She felt like she could handle anything college could throw at her. She only hoped, as she headed for her next class, that she could keep that feeling going.

Surprisingly, she was. Her chat with Kevin significantly improved their progress; he was no longer afraid of her, so he was less afraid of making mistakes, which meant that he made fewer. This in turn made it easier for her to keep her temper, creating a positive feedback loop.

The decrease in pressure associated with her tutoring also helped with her own work. While she still had a mound of reading and writing to get through, she was adjusting better to the workload and stressing less. Combined with the lessening of stress on the Kevin front, the situation made for a much more pleasant Daria. Her friends continued to be agog, and a few newcomers joined their little circle.

It was Colleen, of course, who summed up everyone's feelings with a well-turned one-liner on a warm March morning the carried the promise of spring. “Wow, Daria,” she said as the two walked across the quad, “there are days when you're downright cheerful. Are you sure you haven't abducted by aliens.”

“No,” Daria laughed. “But let me know if you find a transponder on my neck. Quinn might be controlling me remotely.”

“I thought you said your sister wasn't smart enough to do something like that.”

“She's been getting smarter for the last two years. I'm not sure if I should be proud or terrified.”

“I'd say 'yes,'” Colleen said and took a peek over her shoulder at the appreciative crowd of guys watching them. “Oh, look,” she said airily, “we've got a fan club.”

“You mean you've got a fan club,” Daria said.

“Oh, no. I'm not letting you pull that crap. I know for a fact that are guys eyeing you. After all, I know for a fact you've been on a half-dozen more dates since you went out with Eddie.”

“Four,” Daria said. “And thank God none of them were double dates with you and Kevin.”

“Don't change the subject, Daria. For someone who prides herself on being brutally honest, you lie to yourself about your looks all the time.” She shook her head. “And it's not even for your benefit.”

Daria shrugged. “It's just not a big deal. I'm not Quinn. I don't care whether guys are following me around.”

Colleen smirked. “Well, I assure you, they are.”

Before Daria could retort, a male voice broke in. “Excuse me, ladies. I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

Turning, Daria saw a man of average height and medium build, with dark hair cut short and a face that dreams were made of. Piercing blue eyes drew her gaze immediately, and he gave her a dazzling smile. Not trusting herself to speak, Daria shrugged acquiescence and made to step aside for Colleen. To her shock, however, the movie star eyes lingered on her, as he extended a hand. “Daria, right?”

After a confused moment, she took it. “Yes, I mean, uh—.” With a huge effort, she pulled herself together despite her hormones and the waves of smugness emanating from Colleen. “You have the advantage of me, sir.”

He brought the hand to his lips. “I'm Bryce,” he said. “Bryce Wilson.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Bryce Wilson,” she said, and meant it.

He answered her words first with a smile. Without releasing her hand, he continued. “I was wondering if you would like to dine together this evening.”

A sudden vertigo blanked Daria's mind. _This man. Classy. Confident. Urbane. Me. I don't get it._ Once again, she strove to pull herself together. “I would like that very much,” she finally said.

“Shall we say, eight o'clock then? I'll swing by your dorm and meet you.”

“Farley Hall,” she said, still unbelieving.

“I'll see you at eight, then,” he said, finally releasing her hand. Her eyes tracked him as he headed off in the direction they had come from.

“Wow,” Colleen said. “I didn't know you went for over-the-top.”

“Neither did I,” Daria said softly, eyes still following the path Bryce had taken.

“Oh, and Daria?”

“Yes?”

“I told you so.”

“Shut up, Colleen.”

Colleen laughed, and the two friends made their way to class.

Eight o'clock found Daria tenser that she'd been in a long time. Sure, she'd been out with a few different guys in the last month, and she'd dated Tom for close to a year, but she hadn't felt the raw pull of attraction this strongly since the first few times she met Trent. Then she hadn't been in position to act on her feelings; now she was.

In the back of her mind, though, she remembered how things with Tom had ended. She'd convinced herself that they were in love, that he would never hurt her intentionally—and she'd been horribly, painfully wrong. She wasn't ready to give her heart again.

She was, however, ready to doll herself up a little more than she had for her other dates. Part of that was that the weather had changed. The unseasonable warmth made wearing a sleeveless dress possible, and her wrap, a gift from Quinn, would cover her if the temperature dropped. Deep down, though, she simply wanted to look her best—to make a good impression and reassure herself that she wasn't out of her league.

The buzzer rang, signaling that someone was at the desk for her. She took a deep breath, gave herself a once-over, and headed down to the lobby. A sudden impulse toward theater, inspired no doubt by Quinn's influence, led her to pause in the stairway, heightening the anticipation. When she finally walked out after another minute, she was rewarded with a sudden indrawn breath, which she met with her characteristic half-smile.

“You look lovely, Daria,” Bryce said after a moment.

“Why thank you, Bryce,” she said as she walked over. “You're looking very handsome yourself.” Which he was, in a silk shirt with banded collar that set off his blue eyes, and immaculately creased pants. “Shall we go?” she added, offering her arm.

Ironically, he took her to the same restaurant Eddie had over a month ago. But this time, the conversation sparkled. They laughed over modern poetry and jousted over their preferred playwrights—Daria was a Shakespeare girl, while Bryce preferred Marlowe and Jonson. Talk turned to contemporary politics, and Daria was pleased to note how easily Bryce kept up. Most of her other dates weren't interested in much beyond getting their degree so they could get a job at a start-up and rake in the dot-com bucks. Bryce wanted to study law and was suspicious of the internet economy. “At the end of the day, they don't sell anything, so they have no way to generate revenue. It's going to end badly, and probably pretty soon.” Daria agreed.

Only one thing marred her perfect evening. As they were waiting to pay the bill, she mentioned her hometown high school.

“Lawndale,” he said, suddenly curious. “Doesn't that mean you went to school with Kevin Thompson?”

A sudden creeping suspicion assaulted her. “Quarterbacks of any kind aren't my favorite topic of conversation.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to know?”

He shrugged, smile getting a little worried. “Sorry, Daria. I just figured, Notre Dame, people care about football. You might have wanted to do a little bragging.”

“I don't think so,” she said. “As a matter of fact, I didn't even realize this school was a football factory until I found out Kevin was coming here, too.”

Before the chill at the table could get worse, the bill came and they made a show of arguing over who would pay. By the time he prevailed, she no longer felt angry. “Fine. I'll let you pay this time,” she said and he smiled.

“Does this mean you'll go out with me again?“

"I'll think about it,” she said, but her smile and wide eyes gave her away. They left the restaurant as they had arrived—arm in arm.

**Chapter 4: Illegal Motion**

The next day, Daria swore she could still feel the touch of Bryce's lips on hers. They'd only shared the one, chaste kiss outside her dorm, after making plans to see each other again on Friday night, but that had been enough to set her tingling. Getting her head back in shape for class was hard enough, but she also had tutoring with Kevin that night.

She'd spent most of the day with her subconscious chittering about Bryce in counterpoint to her lectures and other conversations, but by the time Kevin arrived, she'd been able to bury the mental noise. A silly smile kept threatening to break out on her face, though.

It was the smile that Kevin noticed when he arrived. “Whoa, Daria! What's got you in such a good mood?”

Daria buried the smile and affected her flattest monotone. “What are you talking about, Kevin?”

“Well, now you look more like Daria, but you were just smiling there. I've never seem you smile like that, not even when we lived through that hurricane in junior year.”

“Don't worry, Kevin,” Daria deadpanned. “I promise you'll never see it again.”

“Why not?” Kevin asked. “You're so much prettier when you smile.” He winced as he realized what he'd just said. “Sorry, Daria. Please don't yell at me.”

Daria tried a glower, but failed. “Fine,” she said, “but I'm saving it up for next time. Now, where were we in Chemistry?”

“The different valiant levels?” Kevin asked.

Daria sighed, mostly from habit. “Valence levels, Kevin.”

“Yeah, that.”

Daria mustered the will not to laugh.

The next day when they met up, Bryce had a surprise for her. “Instead of going out to another restaurant, why don't we take in the new exhibit at the art museum?”

“The Snite?” Daria said. “Cool, I've been meaning to check it out, but somehow, I've never found the time.”

“Someone special been keeping you busy, huh?” As her eyes narrowed, he added. “I mean someone who's short-bus special. Or at least that's what I've heard.”

Even though she was still annoyed, Daria couldn't help but laugh. “He's not that bad,” she said. “He's close, though.”

Bryce laughed. “Oh, the stories you could tell.”

“Well,” Daria said, with her half-smile. “If you're good and don't mention football while we're at the art museum, I may be moved to share a couple of Kevin stories.”

Bryce chuckled and took her hand. “I'll see what I can do.”

The Snite Museum of Art was impressive, Daria had to admit. Since it was just a campus museum, she'd expected a couple of small exhibits and some crap by “rising stars” from the school itself. In fact, there was a breadth of types and styles that would have impressed Jane. There was some crap, of course. She and Bryce had fun ridiculing those. One exhibit, a looped film of people slamming doors earned the mocking title, “The Illusion of Depth,” from Bryce, which in turn earned him a wide smile from Daria. Mostly, though, she found visually arresting, inventive work that thanks to her years of knowing Jane, she could identify with on more than a superficial level.

One oddly shaped sculpture was so much like something Jane would do that Daria was struck with nearly dizzying wave of homesickness. She was suddenly very conscious of how very far away Jane was, and how very much she missed her.

Noticing her distress, Bryce asked, “Is anything wrong? Are you feeling sick?”

“No,” Daria said, getting control of herself. “It's just,” she paused for a breath. “My best friend back in Lawndale was an artist, and this piece reminded me how much I miss her.”

“Oh,” he said. “If it bothers you, we can go.”

“That's probably a good idea,” Daria said. “After all, we've been here a couple of hours already.”

“Well, how about we go get some dessert, then.” Bryce said. “You can tell me about your friend. If you want.”

Daria half-smiled. “And maybe some of the other idiots I went to high school with?”

“Well,” he said, drawing the word out. “Only if you want to.”

It turned out she did want to. The campus had a TCBY, and soon they were sucking down ice-cream substitute and swapping stories of their high school years.

“...so he finally bashed the door open with his head,” Daria reminisced.

Bryce laughed. “How'd you get down from the roof?”

“I've gotta say, I'm a little embarrassed. Turns out that the door wasn't locked. Kevin just hadn't pushed on the latch when he tried to open the door. Jane and I didn't bother checking ourselves.”

At her sheepish expression, Bryce laughed all the harder.

“Hey,” Daria tried to look annoyed. “Would you think anyone could be that stupid?”

“Well, no,” Bryce said. “But then I didn't have the level of experience you did. Didn't you just tell me about your whole science project fiasco?”

“Yeah. I think I would have done better if I could have put Kevin in the maze and worked with the mouse.” Bryce laughed again and looked at his watch. “Think we should get out of here?”

“Yes,” Daria nodded, hiding a thrill of... something as she looked around. “I think it's closing time and they're going to enforce it by beating us with mop handles if we don't go.”

He laughed and rose. “Walk you back?”

“Of course,” Daria said. They walked hand-in-hand back to Farley Hall, not saying much. Daria used the time to examine her emotions. The something she'd felt was desire, certainly, and the possibility that the night might involve some form of deep physical intimacy. Anxiety was there too, or even fear, that intimacy would only lead to pain.

She and Tom had started having sex over the previous summer, after they'd decided to make a go of it in college. With the clarity of hindsight, she couldn't help but wonder if that was the only reason he'd asked her, and she had no desire to be used like that again. Overlaying all was the practical concern that she didn't want to get in the habit of giving it up on the second date.

“Well, here we are,” said Bryce, shattering her reverie. The familiar sight of Finley Hall bulked over them.

“Yes,” she said, suddenly not sure what to say. “Here we are.”

“So,” he said, also awkward.

“So,” she agreed, starting to feel ridiculous. “I should go to bed. It's hard to work up enthusiasm for wild Friday nights when you have to spend the weekend tutoring the brain-dead.”

“I can see that,” he said. “When will I see you again?”

“How about Monday?” she smiled.

Rather than replying, he leaned forward and placed his lips on hers. Whether it was intended to be innocent she would never know, because a sudden passion came over her and she pulled him close. They shared a deep, slow, wet kiss, and when they separated, she said in a breathless voice totally unlike her, “Monday it is.”

Monday was a classical concert at the DeBartolo Performing Arts Center, which Bryce enjoyed more that Daria did, and Thursday, a pleasantly warm day, was a picnic on one of the greens followed by a long walk around campus and a not-quite-but-almost-public make out session that had Daria questioning her sanity. She mentioned it to Colleen the next day, but the redhead laughed off her concerns.

“I don't see why this bothers you. So you made out with a guy somewhere that someone might have seen you.”

“It's not the sort of thing I do,” Daria said stiffly.

“You afraid you might join the human race after all?” Colleen's grin was impish.

“Sometimes I wonder why I'm friends with you.”

“Only sometimes?”

“Yeah, on days ending in 'y.'” For a second, Daria looked thoughtful. “Actually, Jane said almost the same thing.”

Colleen grinned. “Jane is a wise and observant woman. I hope I get to meet her.”

Daria gave Colleen a mock-ferocious glare. “I used to wonder why I was friends with Jane, too.”

Despite Colleen's none too gentle mocking and the urgings of her own body, Daria was reluctant to advance the physical nature of her relationship with Bryce. Whether it was lingering resentment over feeling used by Tom or her naturally cautious nature asserting herself, she kept her hormones under control and her clothes mostly on for the next few weeks. Bryce for his part was a gentleman about it: he respected her boundaries and tried to put as little pressure on her as possible.

Kevin, oddly enough, seemed very interested in her relationship with Bryce. After one chem lesson, she started to put her books away only to find him hovering over the table where they'd worked.

“Yes?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Daria, I need to ask you something,” he said.

“Wait a second. Isn't this how I got into this in the first place?” She made sure to smile to take the sting out of her words, but he seemed not to notice.

“Nothing like that,” he said, and paused struggling for more words, while her expression darkened. Finally, as she was about to say something cutting, he blurted, “So what's up with you and this Bryce guy?”

Totally unprepared for that question, Daria managed only an incredulous, “What?”

“I heard you're seeing a guy named Bryce,” he said.

Daria, her initial shock over, rose to face him. “And what does that have to do with you?” she asked in a sharp tone.

Looking away from her ice-cold eyes, he rubbed his neck nervously and tried to answer. “Well, I uh, that is, don't you think, um. You know,” he attempted a smile. “I'm just asking.”

Not satisfied, Daria continued to glare. “It's none of your goddamn business, Kevin. Just like it's none of my business what you do with Colleen.”

“I don't do anything with Colleen,” he said, and the fear in his voice was replaced with disappointment. “We haven't seen each other in over two weeks.”

“Wait, what?” For the second time, Daria's mind blanked with shock.

“We're not seeing each other anymore,” he said, and then gave her a curious look. “I figured Colleen would have told you.”

Daria gave Kevin a prim look. “Who Colleen dates isn't my business.” With a grimace, she added, “Especially if it's you.”

He shot her a hurt look. “That wasn't fair, Daria.”

She sighed. “You're right, Kevin. It wasn't.” Her face hardened. “But it wasn't fair of you to ask me about my dating, either. We've known each other a long time, and we may even be friends now, but that doesn't give you the right to stick your nose into my business.”

“Sorry,” he said with the same hangdog expression that had accompanied his infrequent apologies in high school. “Hey,” he added, the frown suddenly replaced by his normal goofy grin, “do you mean it about us being friends?”

Seeing the familiar exaggerated expressions play over his face, Daria felt an unaccountable wave of fondness sweep over her. With a laugh, she said, “I guess so, Kevin, God help me.”

“Cool!” Finally, he gathered up his stuff to go. At the door he turned, slight disappointment on his face. “Man, it's a shame we won't see as much of each other after next week.”

Daria racked her brains for a moment before remembering. “That's right. You start spring practice, so we're down to one day a week.” At his nod, she gave him a half-smile. “I guess we'll both have to try to survive.”

He grinned again and gave her a cheery wave. As the door shut behind him, she threw herself on the bed and started to laugh uncontrollably.

She was still amused when she told the story to Bryce over dinner that Friday. Bryce was suitably impressed. “So am I gonna have a football player try to disassemble me now?”

Daria gave him a sardonic look over her burger. “As long as you stay off the direct line between Kevin's dorm and the football field, you should be okay. Otherwise, he's not likely to find you.”

Bryce chucked. “What puzzles me,” he said, suddenly sounding curious, “is how someone that dumb could play quarterback. I don't have a very high opinion of football players in general, but I know enough about the sport to know that quarterback is a pretty complicated job.”

“He's an idiot savant. With emphasis on the idiot.” Daria said. After a thoughtful pause, she added, “That's not really fair. Once he got good at football, it was the only thing he learned about. So he had about a fourth grade education and all of his reasoning and deductive skills are football focused.” She sighed. “It's weird.”

“You're probably the first person in years to care about Kevin as a person instead of a football player.” He looked down at his food for a moment, as if he was nervous or ashamed. “Does he like you, Daria?”

A cold prickling started on Daria's neck. “What do you mean, like?”

Bryce's eyes met hers. “You know what I mean,” he said softly.

“Yes,” Daria said, “but I don't see why you care!” Her temper flared. “Do you honestly think, even if Kevin was interested in me that I'd even consider a romantic relationship with him? We've been dating for over a month, and you should know what I value! And it's not skill at a game played by and for musclebound freaks!”

“Yeah, I know.” Bryce said. “It's just....”

“Just what?” Daria snapped eyes flashing.

“Listen, I should go.” And before she try to stop him or say a word, he was gone, leaving only a twenty-dollar bill in his wake.

“At least he didn't leave me with the bill,” Daria muttered as silent tears began to stream down her face. It was a long time before she could bring herself to leave.

**Chapter 5: Delay of Game**

Over the next few days, Daria spoke to virtually no one. She tried calling Bryce, but had gotten neither answer nor callback. After messages on Saturday, Sunday, and Monday, she gave up. She wanted to talk to her friends, but she felt that if she did, she would have to explain what happened, and she simply had no idea. Everything had been going smoothly, until one awkward conversation derailed the whole thing, and Daria, even after racking her brains for days, couldn't see why.

And now she had to deal with Kevin again. This Wednesday was the first of his once-a-week tutoring sessions. He was due to arrive at nine, and she expected to hear a lot about football, whether she wanted to or not. She did not, however, expect a phone call at eight-thirty.

“Hello,” she said, voice flat and impatient.

“Hello, Daria,” said Bryce's voice, sounding both unsure and uncomfortable.

“Hello, Bryce.” She ignored the impulse toward conciliation. If anything, her voice was even flatter. “To what do I owe this call?”

“Come on, Daria,” he said. “You know why I called.”

“Not really, at least not any more than I what happened on Friday or why you haven't called before this.”

“I had a lot to think about.”

”You had a lot to think about. That makes everything clear. Did the dog eat your homework too?”

“That's not fair, Daria,” he said, anger finally touching his voice.

Part of her felt she'd let him suffer enough and it was time to forgive and forget. That wasn't the part she listened to, though. “Look, you're the one who ditched me without explanation on Friday, left me feeling like a fool, and didn't respond to my messages for five fucking days. If there's anyone who should be complaining about unfairness in this conversation, it's not you.”

“Well, if you're going to be a bitch about it,” he snapped, and she furiously stabbed the end button, not waiting for the rest of his statement. Throwing herself on the bed, she waited for the tears, but they wouldn't come.

It wasn't until the buzzer rang that she remembered Kevin. For a moment, she was tempted to tell him she was sick, but she decided that work, any kind of work, was better than the deadness she felt inside. She dragged herself off the bed, took a minute to check her face for obvious signs of distress, and went downstairs.

“...and coach really liked my long throws. Of course, we didn't get to seven-on-sevens or anything, I mean it's just first week of practice, but I'm really feeling better about this year...” Daria flung her door open as Kevin nattered on in footballese, a language Daria still barely spoke.

She let him babble while she got her notes and books out, and then drew his attention to their work. Within five minutes, she knew she was making a mess of the lesson. Within ten, she was praying Kevin wouldn't notice. In the end, her only comfort was that it took him almost twenty.

“Um, Daria?” Kevin said, after she referred to Ralph Waldo Emerson as a translationist, instead of a transcendentalist, for the third time. “Is something the matter?”

“Nothing's the matter,” she said and hated the dead tone in which she said it.

“Are you sure? Because even I know that Emerson wasn't a translationist. He wrote in English.”

“Thank you, Kevin,” she said, some life returning to her voice. “You're absolutely right. Now if we could focus on what Emerson wrote, instead of what language he wrote in, we can actually get some work done.”

“It's about that Bryce guy, isn't it?” Kevin's eyes held a sudden and unusual shrewdness.

Daria's own eyes narrowed, and her voice went icy cold. “I thought we agreed you weren't going to talk about my love life.”

“I know, I know, and I'm really sorry. But Daria, I heard stuff about this guy that I think you need to know.” She shot him a quelling look, but he plowed onward. “He went to high school with a couple of the guys on the team back in California. He used to follow the football players around to hit on their sloppy seconds. From what they said, he figured that any girl who hung out with a football player must be easy, so he'd have no trouble talking in them into bed after a couple of dates.”

“Sure you don't have him mixed up with someone else?” Daria said, as nastily as she could.

“Like me, you mean?” Kevin asked with raised eyebrow, surprising her with his perception. “Look, I've never been the most faithful guy, and I was a bastard to Brittany any number of times, but she gave as good as she got. And I've always been honest. Everyone knew Brit and I were dating and no one gave a shit, because I was the QB.” He gave Daria a bitter smile. “Just like none of the guys gave a shit that the head cheerleader had a boyfriend when they got with her.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, trying to sound disbelieving. “And this makes you better than you say Bryce is?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe it doesn't. And I don't want to tell you what to do, Daria. But I don't want you to get taken advantage of.”

“Thank you, Kevin, but as I said before, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” Her tart voice belied the confusion roiling within her. Looking at Kevin, she realized she couldn't deal with him in her current state. “You know what, Kevin? Let's call it a night,” she paused, waiving an arm aimlessly. “I'm not feeling well all of a sudden. I'll see you next week?”

“Sure thing, Daria,” he said, a knowing expression on his face. “But if you need anything–“

“Just go,” she said. “I have a pounding headache.” By the time she finished speaking, she wasn't lying.

She lay on her bed after that, trying to sort the welter of her emotions. She couldn't reconcile the picture Kevin had given her with the urbane, witty, and considerate man she'd spend so much time with over the last few weeks. But she couldn't reconcile that person with the Bryce who'd thrown such ugly, hateful words at her tonight either. Nor could she understand why Kevin, of all people, was suddenly inserting himself into her personal life. Sleep was a long time coming.

Over the next few days, Daria tried to put the Bryce disaster, as she termed it, behind her. She went to her classes, lunched with her friends, and tried very hard to pretend nothing was wrong. She knew she wasn't fooling everyone—Colleen at least had that look in her eyes that said, “We will talk, and talk soon. Oh, yes.”—but as long as she wasn't challenged, she felt she could keep it together. The problem, she reflected, was that she was full of shit. She was not 'keeping it together,' so much as denying her emotions. There was something with Bryce that had to be resolved, but she didn't trust herself to do it. So she ignored her emotions and pretended nothing was wrong while secretly she waited for his call.

She was hunched over a textbook when it finally came, around 8:30. She tried very hard to ignore the thrill of emotions that poured through her, allowing herself only a muttered, “If this is Quinn, I'm going to kill her,” before picking up the receiver. It wasn't.

“Daria,” Bryce said. “We need to talk.”

Shoving down a dozen sarcastic remarks, she said, “I think you're right.”

“How about now?” he asked. “We can meet in the library and find a quiet corner.”

“I think that'll be okay,” Daria said, suddenly anxious for no reason she could name. “I can be there in about fifteen minutes.”

“Sounds good,” he said. “See you then.”

She took a few minutes to pretty up, brushing out her hair, adding some lipstick, eye shadow, and blush, while pulling off her Notre Dame sweatshirt and pulling on a nice sweater, but her nerves continued to rattle. She thought he was too much of a gentleman to try anything inappropriate, but she heard Quinn's voice warning her that she was better safe than sorry, so she grabbed her purse, and the can of mace she carried there, and then called Colleen to ask her to meet at the library at 9:30.

The chill of the night did nothing to calm her, but seeing Bryce waiting in front of the library did help. He's just a guy, she thought, not a monster. “Hello, Bryce,” she said, as she approached.

“Hi, Daria,” he said, handsome face showing a determined expression in the light from the library's doorway. “Thanks for coming so quickly.” He opened the door, and followed her in. It took them ten minutes to find a cubby where they could take without being overheard by anyone nearby.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?” Daria asked as they sat.

“Well, first I wanted to apologize for calling you a bitch on the phone. That was way out of line, and I wouldn't be surprised if you never wanted to talk to me again.”

“Well, you're off to a good start,” she said, and quirked a half-smile, even though part of her couldn't help but wait for the other shoe to drop.

“The other thing I wanted to talk to you about was Kevin Thompson,” he said.

Of course, she thought but kept her face expressionless. “What about Kevin? I promise that I'm not now and never have gone out with Kevin Thompson. If I want to spend my time talking to something that doesn't understand me, I'll get a hamster.”

He laughed at that, but it was a nervous laugh. “Of course not, Daria. If I'd stopped to think about it, I would have realized. It's just... you know football players, always with a line of bullshit, bragging about this girl and that, putting other guys down to make themselves look better....”

Something in her eyes must have unnerved him, because his words became more unsure as he spoke.

“I hope you're not telling me that someone's been bragging about me in locker rooms, Bryce,” she said, and there was ice in her voice.

For a long moment, she could see him trying to say something and failing. Whether because the pressure of her eyes on his made it impossible or for some other reason, he wilted. “No. I haven't heard anything like that about you and Kevin.”

“And why would you, anyway? I thought you hated football players.” An ugly idea was forming in Daria's mind, one she hoped was born of paranoia and Kevin's stupidity.

Bryce's next words shattered that fancy. “Has Kevin ever said anything to you about me?”

“Why,” she asked, and if her voice was ice before, it was a blizzard now, “would Kevin have any reason to talk to me about you?”

“No reason,” he said, but the nervous laugh died in his throat.

“Spill,” she said with the narrowed eyes that had always worked on Quinn, and sometimes on Jane and Colleen.

He sighed. “I had a reputation in High School as a hanger on. If you were friends with football players, you got to date girls who wouldn't look at you twice otherwise. One of the guys I went to High School with, it was a big prep school in California, he came to Notre Dame too, and he might have told some of the guys on the football team what I used to be like in High School.”

“What you used to be like?”

“Yeah, Daria, I mean, we've all changed since High School. College is a whole new world, and we're whole new people.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, wishing she could trust him, but knowing deep down that she'd been had. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Tom Sloane was telling her off, but she ignored him. “So it was just a coincidence that you asked me out after it became common knowledge among the football crowd that Kevin and I were spending time together.”

“Of course,” he said quickly—too quickly. “I mean, okay, I know one of the second string cheerleaders, so I hear stuff about the football team, but I don't care about that.”

“Of course not,” she said as coldness radiated from her heart. “You just happened to run into me right after I had a staredown with two cheerleaders over my love life. What I don't understand,” she continued, rolling right over his protests, “is why you went after me, and not Colleen. She actually went out with Kevin, you know.”

“It wasn't Colleen I wanted,” he said, pleading. “It was you.”

“Because she's out of your league, right?”

He said nothing, only looked away.

“I think you should go, Bryce,” she said, viciously monotone.

“No,” he said, and met her eyes. “I really care about you, Daria. It's true, I didn't have the best of motives when I asked you out. I thought you were just another starfucker, but I was wrong. You're amazing, Daria, and I love being around you.”

There was something in his voice that for a moment, just a moment, nearly reached through the ice in Daria's chest, but she remembered her mistakes, the faces of guys who had hurt her, all the way back to Trent telling her, “If you were a little older maybe I could take you out.” The moment died, and the cold reasserted itself. “I think you should go, Bryce.”

Defeated, he walked away, head hanging low. Daria just sat there, staring at nothing. She had no idea how long it was before Colleen found her.

“There you are,” the redhead said. “I've been worried out of my mind looking for you.”

Even though she'd been the one to call Colleen, Daria was suddenly annoyed at her overprotective friend. “I was right here all along.”

Colleen frowned. “A corner cubby in the basement of the library behind the archived journals is hardly 'right there.' All you needed was a door with a sign saying “'Beware of the Leopard' to make you impossible to find.”

“I'll have to get that for my dorm room one of these days.” Daria said. “I'm fine, Colleen, so you can go if you want.”

“The hell you are!” Colleen snapped. “You're as white as a sheet and you even sound monotone for you. I don't even know what you're doing here—“ Daria could see the jolt of knowledge hit her friend's face. “You and Bryce broke up, didn't you.”

Daria shrugged, trying to make it seem trivial. “Yeah.”

“You broke up with him, right?”

Now it was Daria's turn for sudden knowledge. “You knew,” she said, coldly accusing.

Unlike Bryce, Colleen didn't try to lie. “I did. But not right away.”

“So this was your idea of getting me dating? To have some oily bastard break my heart?” Her voice cracked with anger.

“No!” Colleen said. “Daria, I swear to you that I didn't know anything about Bryce the day he asked you out. By the time I heard anything, you two were having so much fun that I thought the rumors must be lies.”

“You should have told me!” Daria shouted.

“I tried, when you had that fight, but you weren't talking to me!” Tears formed in Colleen's eyes. “You weren't talking to anyone! I was worried, Daria, and I didn't know what to do!” Colleen was openly crying.

“You could have trusted me, Colleen.” Daria said, feeling her own cheeks go wet. “You don't hide things from friends! Kevin was the only person who even tried to talk to me!”

“Kevin?” Colleen said, shocked.

“Kevin,” Daria said, defiant. “Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go back to my dorm room and decide if I should ever forgive you.”

“Daria, that's not fair!” Colleen wailed, but Daria simply brushed past her, saying nothing and thinking nothing until she reached the safety of her own bed. Then she put her head on her hands and wept.

**Chapter 6: Holding**

It was the buzz from the intercom that finally stirred Daria. She'd successfully ignored the phone for a day and a half, but the intercom was much louder, and indicated that someone had actually come all the way to her dorm to roust her. With a sigh, she dragged herself off the bed and pulled on a robe. She pondered trying to fix her hair, but decided against it. After a day and a half in bed, her semidoze occasionally interrupted by bursts of tears, she knew there was no way to make herself look good without a lot of effort, effort she wasn't about to put in. So she stomped down the stairs to drive off whoever had interrupted her.

Colleen was the prime suspect. She'd called at least three times yesterday, and probably more, but Daria had stopped looking at the caller ID after that. She had no desire to talk to Colleen anytime in the near future. Jerry or Gina were also possibilities, and she would have to be less unpleasant to them. She did not, however, expect to find Kevin waiting for at the sign-in desk.

“Hey, Daria,” Kevin said, as he saw her. “You look like hell.”

“Fuck you very much, Kevin,” she growled. “I don't need insults or your company.”

“Sorry, Daria,” he said, sheepishly. “That was out of line. But you don't look very good. You look like you've been sick for a couple of days.”

“I'm fine, Kevin,” Daria said. “Please leave.”

Ignoring her words, he moved next to her. “I thought you might like someone to talk to,” he said, looking down at her red-rimmed eyes.

She gave him a black look. “Why would I want that? I've got four walls and a ceiling who are better conversationalists.”

“Walls can't make you feel better,” he said. “Friends can.”

“Cut the after-school special crap, Kevin. Why are you here?”

“I'm worried about you, Daria.” The earnest look on his face surprised Daria, but she tried to ignore it.

“There's a sentence I never expected to hear from Kevin Thompson,” she said with massive sarcasm in her voice. “After all, I'm not the playbook, so there's no reason for you to notice me.”

“That's not fair, Daria,” he snapped. “I know I'm not the smartest guy in the world, but I would like to look out for you. I would probably have come by even if Colleen hadn't asked me to.”

She felt a sudden surge of anger at the name. “So Colleen sent you? Well, I'm sending you back. Tell Colleen I said she can take her worries and go fuck herself sideways.”

“I'm not going to do that,” he said. “I want to know what's wrong, and unless you want the rest of the dorm to know too, maybe we should go back to your room.”

“Good. I've got a can of mace with your name on it.”

“C'mon, Daria. I'm only trying to help.”

“Fine,” she said, heaving a massive sigh. “You can come and talk at me for fifteen minutes, if you promise to go away after that.”

“Alright!” Despite herself, Daria quirked a half-smile at the look of satisfaction on his goofy face. Even angry as she was, something about Kevin made her want to mess with him.

Thus, because she knew it would drive him crazy, when they got back to her room, she sat on the bed, crossed her arms, and said, “So?”

“So what?” he asked, his face a portrait of confusion.

“You've got fifteen minutes to say what you came to say, and the clock is ticking.”

“Oh, yeah.” He scratched his head for moment, clearly disconcerted. “Well, I'm really worried about you.”

“So you said.” She wondered briefly if he really was that dumb or if she had that effect on him. “Why?”

He started to say something, voice uncertain, and she felt sure she could run out his fifteen minutes without difficulty—until, that is, the unexpected happened. She could clearly see the realization strike his face, confusion replaced by deep concern. “Colleen didn't tell me all the details, but she told me enough. You got very badly hurt, didn't you?” His gentle voice evaporated the distance she was cultivating, and her earlier anger returned.

“I dumped a guy,” she snapped. “I didn't get a leg caught in a woodchipper.”

“Come on, Daria. Believe it or not, I know how hard it is to stop dating someone.” For a moment, he looked unutterably sad.

“Oh, right!” Daria was having none of it. “It must have hurt to tell Brittany you were trading up.”

He looked away. “I just, you know, didn't want to draw it out. We were doing that whole make up/break up thing again, and I wanted it over. But I had such a rough first semester that I panicked when I got home for Christmas. If it wasn't for you, I probably wouldn't have realized how cruel I was.”

“Me?” Daria blinked.

“Well, yeah. I mean, you told me off pretty good after Jodie's party, and it made me think. If I wanted to grow up, I had to stop trying to pull Britt back. That was really hard, but it was important.”

“Well,“ Daria said slowly, “That's very mature of you, Kevin. But I still don't see what that has to do with me.”

“I probably wouldn't have asked Britt out again if I had someone to talk to about it. So maybe if you talk to me, you won't do something dumb.”

There was something in his face she'd never seen there before, something that urged her to silence, so despite her reflexes, she bit back on the obvious remark and replaced it with a question. “What kind of dumb thing?”

“I don't know, Daria. You're smarter than me, so it'd probably be something complicated.”

Daria suddenly laughed, a short bitter bark. At Kevin's quizzical look, she said, “Sorry. I read somewhere that people of limited intelligence tend to make small mistakes, but to make a catastrophic mistake, you need real smarts.”

“I guess,” Kevin said, clearly confused. “I just—“ he paused, groping for the words. “I know you're hurting, but I don't want you to hurt yourself more to forget what hurt you in the first place.”

“I know,” Daria said. “Thank you, Kevin.” A tide of emotion seemed to rise in her, sweeping everything forward, gratitude and rage and bone-deep pain. “I just wish people were honest,” she blurted. “Everyone lies. Bryce lied to me, even Colleen lied to me, and she's my best friend, except for Jane. And even Jane used to lie to me sometimes. Sometimes I think you're the only person who's never lied to me.” Tears began to run down her cheeks. “And I know that's mostly because you never had a reason to before, but still, it means something to me.”

Moved by her words and by her tears, Kevin put his arms around her. For a moment, she pulled away, but the comfort of his arms drew her in, and soon she was weeping softly on his shoulder. As he patted her back to comfort her, he was struck by how good she felt against him. The same thing occurred to her, and she looked up at his face, her skewed glasses revealing some of the deep green of her eyes. Something unspoken passed between them, and he gently slid the glasses from her face.

“You have beautiful eyes,” he whispered, and put his lips to hers.

A part of her mind recoiled, but the response of her body overwhelmed it. She leaned into the kiss, setting both their pulses racing. When they broke, it was Kevin who looked alarmed, and Daria who pulled him back.

The next morning, Daria tried to come to grips with what had happened. First, she was shocked that she'd kissed Kevin Thompson. Then she wondered why she'd kissed Kevin. Then, she was shocked that she'd kissed Kevin Thompson. Then, she wondered why kissing Kevin had felt so natural. Then, she was shocked that she'd kissed Kevin Thompson. Eventually, she decided she wasn't getting anywhere and got out of bed.

Deciding coffee would be a logical next step, she filled the four-cup coffeemaker her mother had given her. While she waited for the coffee to brew, she hit the bathroom and noted that she looked even worse than yesterday. Clearly, some grooming was in order—well, after her first cup of coffee.

Forty-five minutes later, a groomed, dressed, and caffeinated Daria was forced to confront two unfortunate truths: first, last night had actually happened—she had kissed Kevin—and second, she had no idea what to think or how to feel about it. Fortunately, she found that unlike with the emotional turmoil of the last couple of days, this confusion wasn't all-consuming. So she sensibly shoved it to the back of her mind and went to class.

Both classes went smoothly, not that she expected anything else, and the midafternoon found her at the library catching up on the reading she normally would have done over the last couple of days. Buried in a badly written monograph on voting patterns in antebellum Kentucky, it took a moment to notice the person standing over her. Heart suddenly racing, she looked up... at the nervous face of Colleen O'Leary.

“Are you going to sit or just keep blocking my light?”

“I wasn't sure I would be welcome,” Colleen said softly as she slid into the seat across from Daria.

“Yeah, about that,” Daria looked away, face heating with embarrassment. “I overreacted. Especially since I was the one who called you.”

“Yeah, well, I probably shouldn't have been keeping secrets from you. So are we good?”

“Yeah,” Daria nodded. “We're good.”

“Well, let me look at you, then,” Colleen said. “I was so worried about you for the last couple of days.”

“Afraid I'd grow another head and start trying to eat our fellow students?”

“Well, yeah, but you've still only got the two, so you're okay.” She reached a hand to her friend. “Seriously, Daria. When you wouldn't answer your phone, I got so freaked out—“

“That you sent Kevin over.” Daria quirked a half-smile. “You've had better ideas, you know."

“I don't know,” Colleen said, her own smile now showing fully. “You're out, about, and talking to me. Something good must have happened.”

“Well, I didn't kill him, if that's what you mean.” Daria was sure she'd hidden the sudden thrill she'd felt at the mention of “something good,” but something in her face must have changed, because Colleen's eyes lit with an unholy glee.

“Something did happen,” she said, and laughed. “Don't try to deny it, Daria. You suck at lying.”

“I could just take the Fifth,” Daria said, strangely not displeased. “I don't have to say anything.”

Colleen just laughed all the harder. “I knew it. I knew there was something between you two,” she choked out between giggles.

“Anytime you'd like to shut up would be good,” Daria growled.

“Come on, Daria. You have to admit, it's pretty funny.”

“You know,” Daria said, and there was frost in her voice. “I've been through emotional hell this week. It would be nice if my best friend could show something other than amusement.”

“I'm sorry,” Colleen said, though she didn't sound it. “So what now?”

Daria rolled her eyes. Colleen was just too irrepressible to stay angry at. And the ball of confused emotion about Kevin that she'd been ignoring all day sudden broke free and overwhelmed her. “I don't know,” she said in a small voice. “I really don't know.”

“Well,” said Colleen, sounding serious. “You could consider the situation rationally from a number of angles and consider whether going out with Kevin is the best thing to do.”

Daria raised an eyebrow. “Who are you and what have you done with Colleen O'Leary?”

“I said you could do that, not that you should. The better option would be to embrace the moment and see where it takes you.”

A little ice crept back into Daria's voice. “Didn't I try that with Bryce?” And Tom, she added mentally.

If Colleen was ruffled, she didn't show it. “Actually, you didn't. You kept things slow and let him court you. Which,” she raised a finger to forestall Daria's interruption, “was a good idea, since he turned out to be an asshole. But you know Kevin, and you know he's honest and he's not going to hurt you on purpose.”

“But he might hurt me all the same.” Tom did.

“That's the price you pay for living, Daria,” Colleen said, and suddenly made a face. “And don't I sound like an after-school special. Feel free to shoot me now.”

Daria's wonderment at her friend's changeable moods lasted only a moment because her eyes suddenly met wide brown ones. Kevin blinked first. “Uh, sorry, Daria,” he stammered. “I didn't, huh, know you were— I wanted to— I'm just gonna go now.” He turned and walked off, rather quickly, Daria noted.

“Listen, Colleen,” she said, rising, “you're going to have to abuse me later. I have to talk to someone.”

Colleen's reply, if there was one, was lost in Daria's rush to find Kevin. She fairly flew up the stairs, but didn't see him in the lobby. Guessing that he wouldn't hang around, she sped out the front doors, where she saw the usual crowds on the quad, but no Kevin. She took a moment to catch her breath and think. She knew he had no classes today, and although he wasn't the brightest light on the Christmas tree, she figured he was smart enough not to go directly back to his dorm. _Besides, I can check there last if I don't find him._ But knowing Kevin, where would he go if he was freaked out? A frisbee flew past her head, and she suddenly knew.

She'd strenuously avoided the athletic facilities since arriving at Notre Dame, but she knew where they were. It was hard not to, since they took up a large part of the campus. The enormous football stadium dominated, but there were also smaller structures for track and field, basketball, and other activities. The whole complex hummed with motion, as guys and girls who were obviously athletes strode purposefully between buildings, some carrying equipment bags or backpacks, some emptyhanded. Feeling something like an emigrant to a foreign country, she tried to wave down a hulking guy in a letter jacket, but he ignored her. She had better luck with a wiry girl almost a foot taller than her.

“Excuse me? Where do the football players practice?” she asked.

The taller girl shrugged. ”In the stadium,” she said.

_That won't do at all_ , Daria thought. “What about the scout team?”

“Oh, that's right. They work out on the practice field over there.” The girl gestured toward a long, low set of bleachers. “Probably no one there, though. Practice doesn't start for a couple hours, I think.”

Good. Now if only he's there. “Thank you. You've been a big help,” she said aloud, even as the other girl ambled off.

Daria headed in the direction of the bleachers and soon enough came around them to see a wide green field, empty except for one person and a bag of footballs. She watched for a moment, heart suddenly hammering, as the figure reached into the bag, pulled out a football, and threw it at a distant target. She heard the clank as the ball bounded off the metal man-shaped target. The next ball, though, disappeared through a small hole where she assumed a person's hands would be. Several more disappeared before another one clanked off the metal. The figure didn't react either way; he just kept throwing.

Finally, she worked up the nerve to walk over. He kept throwing, seemingly oblivious to her approach until she was close enough to touch his arm as he reached into the bag for another ball. Dropping the ball, he looked up with an angry expression, one that faded when he saw who had interrupted him. “Oh, hi, Daria,” he said, trying for nonchalance and missing by miles. “Funny seeing you here.”

With nerves overwhelming her, the sarcasm reflex took over. “I know. It's almost like I came looking for you or something.”

He laughed nervously. “Why would you do that?”

“I don't know,” she said. “Something about seeing you in the library and having you run off like I'm Typhoid Mary or something.”

Instead of responding, he reached down into the bag of footballs again. This time, however, he didn't aim for target. Instead, with a growl, he heaved the ball the length of the practice field and over the bleachers. Daria could only watch in amazement.

When he finally spoke, his voice was raw. “I'm sorry, Daria, for being such a jerk. If it makes you feel better, you can't be madder at me than I am.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “I'm not mad at you. Well, except for the running away part. Chasing you down is no fun.”

For a long moment warring expressions competed on Kevin's face: shock, confusion, disappointment, maybe even hope. Finally, he blurted, “Why?”

“Why am I not mad at you?”

He nodded, clearly still shocked.

“Why would I be mad at you?” Daria sighed. “As far as I could tell, what happened last night was mutual. If I thought you'd weaseled your way up to my rooms to put the moves on poor, broken Daria, I'd be mad, but we both know you didn't do that. So why should I be mad at you?”

“Well, we're friends, and friends aren't supposed to do that to friends.”

“On the contrary, that's how some of the best relationships get started.”

Completely wrongfooted yet again, Kevin blinked, several times before finally saying, “Relationships? We weren't talking about relationships, were we? Did I miss something?”

Daria sighed. “No, Kevin. We weren't talking about relationships.” Coldness welled up in her. “Does the idea bother you?”

“No,” Kevin said. “It's just that girls like you don't go out with guys like me.”

Daria's mouth quirked and she could feel the sarcastic remark burning to escape, but to her everlasting shock, Kevin beat her to it. “I know that's the opposite of what I would have said in High School, but I've met enough college girls to know it's true. You're a smart, beautiful girl, Daria, and I'm just a dumb jock.”

“Don't call yourself dumb, Kevin,” she snapped, and then her expression softened. “You're also honest, Kevin. You're the only person I know who's always been honest with me. And that counts for a lot.” A sense of possibility crept over Daria. She knew this could very well end in disaster, but it could also be a really, really good experience, something she'd never really opened herself fully to before. “So, if you want to, we can give this thing a try.”

“Give this thing—” he stammered. “You…you want to go out with me?”

“If you want to go out with me,” she said and smiled.

“Yes, yes!” He said, and threw his arms around her in a wild embrace. “I can't believe it. I can't believe you'll go out with me.

“I can't believe it either,” she said, affecting a monotone, even as something inside her sang. “I mean, how the hell am I going to explain to Jane?”


	3. Special Teams

Spring and summer bring hope, but also a renewal of battle. Hopefuls push their bodies to the limit to prepare themselves for upcoming clashes. For everyone who has established themselves in the starting lineup, the inner circle of the team, dozens more are fighting for their place. Some will fall by the wayside as the grueling pace highlights undiscovered weaknesses; others will find they lack the strength within or without to overcome their foes. Only an honored few will reach the season with their football dreams intact....  
  
 **Chapter 1: Block in the Back**

Daria hurried through the familiar streets of Lawndale toward Pizza King to meet Jane as she had so many times before. She'd been back in town for spring break for three days, but today was the first time they would see each other. Since she'd spent the last three weeks at school telling herself she was too busy to call, this was the longest the two had gone without speaking since they met—well, except for the Tom thing, but Daria was doing her best to put all things time Tom firmly in the past.

As familiar places—and the odd familiar face—drifted through the edges of her sight, she sighed. She knew damn well why she was avoiding her friend—she didn't want Jane's opinion of her relationship. Jane was going to find it life-threateningly funny, and Daria had been the butt of enough jokes already. Colleen hadn't been too bad, but Jerry and Gina couldn't even look at her for the last week before break without laughing. Her sister's laughing fit hadn't been quite as epic, but the twinkle of amusement in Quinn's eyes was putting Daria permanently out of sorts.

Arriving at Pizza King, she took a deep breath, pushed the door open, and walked in. Her eyes swept the familiar booths and the old counter, just as cracked and dingy as it ever was, but caught no sign of Jane. Her sense of relief dismayed her, but not nearly as much as the sudden, “Hey, amiga! I thought that was you,” that came from right behind her. It was all she could do not to jump out of her skin.

“Develop a coffee habit over the last few weeks?” Jane's tone was sardonic, but her eyes were amused.

“No,” Daria said, affecting her flattest monotone even as she tried to get her pounding heart under control. “The stress of once again being confined to the same house as Quinn is getting to me.”

Jane gave Daria a long look before saying. “Grab a booth. Garbage pie on me.”

In the booth she'd chosen, Daria tried hard to settle her nerves. Yes, she was about to tell her best friend that she was dating the QB they'd spent so much time deriding in High School, but it wasn't like she was asking for Jane's permission. She was just sharing the latest development in her life, like she'd done so many times before. And if Jane didn't like it, well, it wasn't Jane that was dating Kevin; she didn't have to like it.

After a moment, Jane slid into the booth neatly balancing the tray that held their garbage pie. “So,” she said, “helping herself to a slice, “how goes your foray into animal training?”

Daria lowered her eyes to the food. She could feel herself tightening in anger, and didn't want Jane to see. Unfortunately, the pizza didn't look all that appealing either. Her infrequent trips to Baltimore had taught her that pizza in the 'burbs was pretty much the bottom of the barrel. She supposed she'd eventually have to make it over to Chicago, or New York, over the summer to try some real pizza, but for now, this was what she had. _What the hell._ I _t's better than anything I can get in South Bend, anyway._ Finally, she grabbed a slice and took a bite, chewing deliberately to avoid answering until she had her anger until control.

Finally, she spoke. “Animal training?”

“You know,” Jane smirked. “The education of the wild QB in its native habitat. Has Kevin learned the alphabet, yet?”

“Kevin's doing very well,” Daria said after another bite. “He's never going to be a prize student, but he's on track for a GPA around 2.4. It's enough to keep him off probation.”

“Wow, Daria the miracle worker.” Jane said. “Do you get the Nobel Prize before or after you graduate?”

“Jane,” Daria said, voice even, though she badly wanted to grit her teeth. “Please stop talking about Kevin as if he was a different species. I've spent a lot of time around him these last few months and found that under the veneer of privilege created by high school is a remarkably decent person.”

Taken aback, Jane blinked and blurted, “What's gotten into you? Next you'll tell me you're going out with him.”

Daria's insides froze. If she thought she had hidden her shock, Jane's next words disabused her. “You are going out with him,” she breathed in an awed tone usually reserved for informing supervillains of their madness

“So what if I am?” Daria snapped, her self-control fading. She knew her amiga would find it funny, but she was unprepared for the gales of laughter that erupted. Kane laughed for a full minute, occasionally waving a finger as if to focus herself and speak before giving way to further hilarity. All the while, Daria grew redder.

Finally, Jane got control of herself. “Does this mean you have to return the mouse and the M&Ms to Brittany?” she asked. Daria's outraged look sent her into further laughter, but she recovered much more quickly this time.

“I don't see what's so funny, Jane,” Daria said.

“If you think it through, it'll come to you.”

“I can do without the know-it-all attitude. I get enough of that from Colleen.”

Jane grinned. “Colleen is a wise and observant woman. I hope I get to meet her.”

“Sorry. I have no plans to set off the apocalypse, which is the only possible outcome of getting the two of you together.”

“Time was, you'd have called the apocalypse a good day's work. Told you you're getting soft.”

Daria refused to dignify that with a response, instead savagely chomping on her pizza.

Jane must have realized it was time to lay off, because she let Daria finish her slice in peace. The smirk refused to leave her face. though

“You know,” Daria snapped, “if I wanted to be judged, I could have stayed home.”

“But I thought that's what you liked about me,” Jane said in deadpan imitation of Daria herself. Before Daria could take offense, or react in any way, Jane continued. “Relax, Daria. I'm not going to hassle you about Kevin. You're a big girl and you'll take care of yourself. Besides, the heart has it's reasons whereof reason knows not, right?”

Daria quirked an eyebrow. “I didn't think Pascal was your idea of leisure reading, Jane.”

Jane answered with a smirk. “It's not. But _A Wrinkle in Time_ is.” She wiped a mock tear from her eye. “I love that book.”

“Me too,” Daria half-smiled. “But I'm surprised you're not asking me why I'm going out with him.”

“I don't need to ask. I've known you for three years.”

“This ought to be good.” Daria's voice was heavy with sarcasm.

“Count on it,” Jane said, and smirked again. “You hate lies and pretense, which is good, but it also makes you a sucker for honesty. And Kevin, in high school, was one big put-on, so you blew him off, or would have if he gave you the chance. But now, he's desperate, which made him honest, so you responded to the honesty, which is why you agreed to tutor him. And as long as he's still being honest with you, you can notice that he actually is a good looking guy, and he's trying to learn, so you can forget the difference in IQ between the two of you. And someone, probably that Bryce jerk, rubbed your face in the fact that not everyone is honest, but also reminded you that you like having a guy to get hot and heavy with. And there's Kevin being honest and handsome and trying hard, so of course you fell into his arms, because not only are you honest, but deep down, under that cold, sarcastic exterior, you're one of the sweetest people alive.”

“Are you done? You were starting to turn purple.”

Jane took an exaggerated deep breath. “I'm done.”

“So you really think that deep down, I'm a sucker with a heart of gold.” Daria said.

“Yep,” Jane said, and took a bite of her pizza. As she chewed, she added, “It's the only thing that makes you bearable, amiga.”

“Bite me,” Daria said, but they both knew her heart wasn't in it. In fact, she felt a rush of warmth, realizing again that Jane truly understood her and cared about her. Not that she was going to tell Jane that. “I still have that bridesmaids dress and I'm sure I can borrow a cleaver.”

Jane laughed and raised her drink in mock salute.

* * *

The rest of the break and the last few weeks of the semester passed without incident. Having survived finals once, she was better prepared for the stress they placed on her life, and Kevin was fully invested in cracking 2.0. The only downside she could see—and she had to laugh considering how long she would have considered it the upside—was that she saw little of Kevin outside of their tutoring sessions. Between classwork and his spring practices, there simply weren't enough hours in the day to bring them together. And once finals were done, the move back to Lawndale was all too soon.

She was just getting into some heavy packing when her intercom buzzed, telling her there was someone downstairs. “This had better be good,” she grumbled, dropping the CD-ROM game she was holding.

Downstairs she was greeted by a serious-looking Kevin with a bouquet of flowers. Before he could even offer then to her, she froze him with a steely glare. “Out with it,” she said.

“What?” he said, affecting his most ingenuous look.

“You show up not smiling, with flowers, when you know we're moving out tomorrow. Something's up, and the sooner you tell me what it is, the sooner I can decide how mad to be.” Somewhere deep, her insides writhed, but she ignored them.

“Well, I made the varsity,” he said and for a second his smile lit the room, as she waited for the other shoe to drop. “But that means I can't go back to Lawndale. We're going to be working though most of the summer.”

She was silent for a long moment, hoping Kevin couldn't sense the anger and fear rising in counterpoint within her, as the specter of Tom's betrayal loomed. It had taken him all of six weeks after leaving for Yale to dump her. _I have to trust_ , she said over and over again in her head, repeating the words like a calming mantra. After what seemed like forever, she said, “Congratulations.”

“You're not mad?” She could hear the confusion in his voice, see it on his face.

 _I wouldn't go that far_ , she thought, as emotional aftershocks rumbled through her. _I might be crazy as a shithouse rat._ To him, she gave her half-smile. “Of course I'm not mad, Kevin. A little disappointed, but only because I want to spend time with you. I'd be pretty selfish to blame you for reaching a goal you've been working toward for years.”

“I'm not there yet,” he said, and the quiet intensity in his voice was somehow shocking. But then his eyes met hers and he smiled. “I'm sorry, Daria. I was looking forward to spending time with you, too. But I'm glad you understand.”

“And we won't be apart for that long. I'm coming back in July for summer session and to find an apartment with Colleen.”

“Right,” he said. “And I'll make sure we have plenty of time together then.” When he leaned in to kiss her, Tom was the furthest thing from her mind.  
  
 **Chapter 2: Leaving the Field and Returning**

Helen and Jake were happy to have her home, of course, even if for only six weeks. And given her plans to get an apartment and the sudden need for cash that went with it, she couldn't turn down Helen's “offer” of an internship at her law firm. “You can make about a thousand dollars in six weeks, Daria,” Helen had said, “and the connections you make now may prove much more valuable.”

“Of course,” was Daria's reply. “The office shredder will be happy to get me into law school. Now I know how Jodie feels.”

“Daria.” Helen's sigh was so practiced that Daria had to laugh.

And although as predicted, she spent most of her time with the shredder, she knew her work situation could have been far worse, so she didn't complain—not any more than strictly necessary. Besides, she still had plenty of time to hang out with Jane and do what she wanted.

The only thorn in her side was the vague worry that Kevin had forgotten about her. After all, he was a thousand miles away, probably surrounded by football groupies in short shorts, while she was stuck in Lawndale with her shredder. Their all-too-brief phone calls did nothing to reassure her, and Quinn, sadly, was no help.

Even though Daria was willing, for the first time in her life, to seek relationship advice from her dating-fiend younger sister, Quinn was largely unavailable. Between prom, studying for finals, graduation, and much associated shopping, the Princess of Pink was hardly ever home. On the few occasions both sisters were around, Quinn cultivated a serene amusement that drove Daria wild.

One memorable conversation resulted when Quinn claimed Jake's Lexus for “finals shopping,” leaving Daria a two-mile walk to meet Jane at Gary's Gallery.

“Exactly what,” an exasperated Daria demanded of her sister, “does shopping have to do with finals?”

Quinn merely gave a flip of the hair as she pulled on her light jacket. “Therapy, Daria,” she said and glided out the door, leaving the older Morgendorffer sister shaking her head.

Still, when Quinn's graduation finally came, Daria was happy to join her parents in the familiar stands of Lawndale High to show her little sister just how proud she was. Though Quinn was nowhere near Valedictorian status, she'd pulled her grades up far enough to have a wide range of college options. In typical Quinn fashion, she'd stuck with her original choice, Pepperdine, but not for the beaches, the parties, or LA.

No, much to Daria's surprise, and possibly her own, Quinn found her heart set on Marine Biology, and Pepperdine had one of the better programs in the country. Watching Quinn receive her diploma, Daria felt herself tearing up thinking about how far Quinn had come—how far they'd both come—since moving to Lawndale. When the ceremony finally ended and Quinn joined her family, the sisters shared a deep, long hug that would have been impossible four years ago.

Daria was surprised how quickly the time went after that. Her last day at the law firm was June 30, the Friday after Quinn's graduation, and from there on she was preparing for the trip back to Indiana on the 5th of July. She and Jane were planning on going to another of Jodie's parties on the 4th, but as she stared pensively at an open box of knickknacks, she wondered what Jane would think if she ditched the party. A knock at her door interrupted her. “It's open,” she called.

Quinn's head appeared around the door. “Mind if I walk over to Jodie's with you and Jane?”

Daria raised an eyebrow. “What makes you so sure I'm going?”

“A functioning brain,” Quinn said archly. “Every time Jodie throws a party you bitch about not wanting to go. But every time, you go.”

“Damn. Hoist with my own petard.” Daria put down the Spanish Inquisition snow globe she'd been holding and turned to face her sister. “I don't mind,” she said, “but I figured you'd want to walk over with your friends.”

“Can't a girl want to spend some time with her sister?”

“Are you feeling well?”

“Of course,” Quinn said, and smiled vindictively. “I know how bad you were at the New Year's Party. This time, I want to watch.”

Daria grabbed a pillow and threw it at her sister. “What makes you think I'm going to be worth watching? Jane and I are just going over for an hour or two and then I'm going to come home and finish packing.”

“Sure,” Quinn drew the word out. “After all, no one gave you crap for tutoring Kevin, so they're totally going to mind their business now that you're dating him.”

“Dammit!” Daria looked for a pillow to bury her head in, but she'd thrown it at Quinn. “How did you get so good at sarcasm, anyway?”

Quinn smirked. “I started listening to my big sister.”

Daria slowly and deliberately stuck her tongue out at Quinn. It wasn't something she'd ever done, even as a little girl, and it took Quinn totally by surprise. The redhead dissolved into helpless laughter, allowing Daria to recover her pillow. “You're welcome to walk over with us, and laugh at me, but if you say word one, you're a dead woman, Quinn.” Then, not without a certain dignity, she whomped her laughing sister in the face with the pillow and strode out of the room. Quinn only laughed harder.

Somehow, the sisters Morgendorffer managed to cease hostilities for long enough to make it to Jodie's. Daria expected Jane to be at least mildly curious about their traveling companion, but she and Quinn exchanged knowing smiles, like they were sharing a good joke that Daria wasn't privy to. The feeling wasn't helped by Jodie's expression when she answered the door.

“You can stop staring, Jodie,” Daria said. “I made sure to put makeup on both heads this times.”

“And you look very nice,” Jodie blurted. “Uh, hi Daria,” she added, trying to regain her equilibrium. “And Jane and Quinn. It's good to see you all.” In the doorway, Daria could see Mack lurking.

“Right,” she snapped. “I'm leaving.”

Before she could turn, Jane and Quinn each grabbed an arm. “And deny your friend—“

“And your sister,” added Quinn.

“Your friend and your sister,” Jane continued, with a villainous laugh, “the pleasure of watching you squirm? I don't think so. You made your bed. Now lie in it.”

Jodie grimaced at the word “bed.” “That's a mental picture I don't need,” she said.

“Too right,” Mack added, as he joined them. “Hey, Jane. Hey, Quinn. Hey, pod person that took over Daria's brain. When do we get the real Daria back?”

“When you all start minding your own business again,” Daria snapped. “My private life is private.”

“C'mon, Daria,” Jane smirked. “At least let us have a little fun. After all, the world is clearly ending within the week.”

“Bite me, Lane,” Daria said as Jodie smiled, Quinn snickered, and Mack guffawed. “I hate you all with malice aforethought,” she said. “Also afterthought,” she added after a moment's reflection.

Sensing no sympathy from anyone around her, she decided retreat was the better part of valor. Andrea, who was walking past, altered her path to match Daria's as Quinn watched, curious. “Well, Andrea certainly finds this all very fascinating,” she said, softly.

“Quinn,” Jane said. “Everyone finds this fascinating. Somewhere in northern Alaska, two Eskimos are huddled in an igloo gossiping about Daria and Kevin.” As her eyes caught Brittany heading toward them, she added, “And there's a bubble-headed blonde cheerleader who's also interested.”

Jodie frowned, but before she could say anything, Brittany was on top of them, already in full squeak. “I can't believe Daria! What is she thinking?!”

“If I answer that question properly, you're not going to understand me anyway,” Jane deadpanned. Mack and Quinn stifled laughs.

“Ha, ha. Very funny, Jane. We all know I'm dumb.” Jane blinked, shocked. A heavy silence fell, which Brittany interrupted. “But not as dumb as Daria, I think. She promised me she wasn't going to get mixed up with Kevin!” She punctuated this angry outburst by stamping her foot.

“So you're not still interested in him,” Jodie asked softly.

“Are you kidding? Football players are jerks! And Kevin is the king jerk.” She considered a moment, right hand still unconsciously moving to twirl a pigtail. “Well, that Tommy Sherman was King Jerk and some of the guys at East Kentucky are, like, major jerks, too. But Kevin is at least Lord Jerk. I can't believe Daria would do that to herself!”

Before Jodie could say anything, Daria appeared on her other side. “Do what to myself?” she said, face calm and expressionless. To Jodie, Mack, and Brittany, she looked exactly the way she always did. Jane and Quinn, who knew her better, began to back away.

They never made it. Daria knew them, too. “Stay,” she said, without turning, and the edge in her voice froze them both. Meanwhile, Brittany, convinced her cause was just, or maybe too dumb to know better, confronted Daria. “You know what I mean! Dating that slimy snake Kevin!”

Daria said nothing for a long moment, just meeting Brittany's eyes. As she drew in a breath, Jane and Quinn winced, waiting for the onslaught, while Jodie and Mack squirmed, and even Brittany began to wonder if she'd gone too far. But when Daria spoke, it was softly, with an air of confusion. “I don't know, Brittany. I can't explain, but it just feels right.”

Brittany made a “Hmmph” sound, but there was no real force to it.

“Look, I know what you're thinking, and it's not like that. Somehow, I don't know how, we just found a way to respect each other, and feelings grew out of that.” Though she was technically talking to Brittany, Daria's words seemed to beg for understanding from Jane, Quinn, Mack, and Jodie as well. “He's not the same person he was in High School, or even at New Years'. I think he's growing up.”

“Maybe,” Brittany said doubtfully. “Or maybe he's found a way to trick you into doing what he wants.”

“Believe me, Brittany,” Daria said with a wince, “Kevin's an amateur when it comes to manipulation.” Jane and Quinn, who both knew about Tom, if not about Bryce, shuddered in sympathy.

Brittany began to twirl a braid, face clouded with the effort of thinking. Finally, she sighed. “Well, okay, Daria. If you think the jerk is worth your time, I'm not going to tell you no. But don't let him take advantage of you.”

Strangely touched, Daria took Brittany's hand. “I won't. And Brittany, I meant what I said at New Years'. You've always been very nice to me, and I haven't always deserved it. So thank you.”

“You're welcome, Daria,” Brittany said, and smiled. With a bob of her pigtails to acknowledge the others, she left to mingle.

“Wow,” Quinn said, as Daria's eyes followed Brittany's retreating form. “Did you really mean all that?”

“Yes,” Daria replied without turning.

“Of course she did,” Jane said. “Daria doesn't even know how to lie!”

“Let's not get crazy,” Quinn said, making Jodie and Mack laugh.

Daria sighed, suddenly tired of being the focus of their attention. She could feel unasked questions like waves emanating from the four of them. At least Andrea had just made fun of her. “I never thought I'd live to say this, but let's go mingle.”

* * *

Daria found getting back in the swing of things at school to be harder than she thought. For one thing, surviving the two-day drive back to Indiana had been an ordeal. It wouldn't have mattered if God was her co-pilot, she reflected, because Jake was her driver, and distance didn't mitigate his tendencies toward road rage. She lost a day just sitting and shaking in her temporary dorm room.

She pulled herself together the next day because she and Colleen were going apartment hunting. Before Colleen stopped by, though, she gave Kevin a call.

“Hi,” said the familiar, but somehow less goofy, voice,

“Hey, Kevin,” Daria said. “I'm back.”

“Daria!” His voice lit with joy, in turn making her tingle ever so slightly. “How was the trip back?”

“Don't ask,” she said. “My Dad's driving is a combination of the Indy 500 and the Soviet march on Berlin.”

“End of World War II, right?”

“Right,” she said, even as his earnest tone made her smile. “Listen, Colleen and I are going apartment hunting today, but I'm free tonight. Do you want to meet up for dinner?”

He sighed. “Can't. Got a film session with the quarterbacks coach tonight. I only have morning practice tomorrow, though. After that I'm free the whole day.”

“Well, Colleen and I may have to do more apartment hunting, but we can definitely have dinner and hang out after.”

“Great,” he said. They chatted for a few minutes more, until Kevin noticed he had to head out. “I'll call you after practice tomorrow!”

“Okay,” she said, and hung up the phone with her usual half-smile. She would have liked to get together today, to see if this still made sense, but she accepted that he was busy. “Who knew my social life would suddenly revolve around football practice.” She shook her head and laughed softly to herself.

The first day of apartment hunting was a total bust, but late on the second day, she and Colleen found a place they liked. The realtor, a thirtysomething named Rhonda with a no-nonsense attitude, was a relief after all the fake friendliness the girls had been forced to endure. Rhonda hustled them through a couple of crapholes “that the boss makes me show,” before getting to the prize—a garden apartment in a two-story building. The two bedrooms were the same size, both slightly bigger than Daria's old room in Lawndale, which made them cavernous compared to their dorm rooms, and the living space had a small kitchenette and a big bay window to let in natural light. It took the two girls less than a second to agree, and it was a very happy Daria that went to meet Kevin for dinner.

The first thing she noticed when the red jeep picked her up was how well dressed Kevin was. He stepped from the car wearing a sport coat over an expensive-looking dress shirt. His pants were immaculately creased and even his shoes were shined.

“You look great,” she said, feeling self conscious. She'd thrown on a skirt, but her top was little better than a T-shirt.

Her outfit didn't seem to bother him, though, as he leaned in to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek. “You look great too, Daria,” he said as he opened the passenger door for her. In a minute they were on their way.

Daria expected they'd hit the burger place close to campus, and sure enough, Kevin was heading in that direction. She was therefore surprised when he shot past it without stopping. “I hope you like French food. There's a place out by the interstate that some of the guys on the team say is really good.” He turned to smile at her for a second. “I figured we should do something nicer than sloppy joes.”

“Sure,” Daria said. “It's a little weird, though,” she added. “Quinn was always the one who went to French restaurants.”

Kevin was genuinely surprised. “But Tom was rich. I thought he took you to fancy places all the time, right?”

Daria tried to hide a wince at the mention of Tom Sloane's name. “He didn't like doing fancy dinners. A lot of our dates were just grabbing a slice of pizza and walking around Dega Street or downtown Lawndale.”

“Wow. I was never the best boyfriend, but even I knew to take Britt out someplace fancy every once in awhile.” He laughed. “I would see Quinn at Chez Pierre pretty much whenever I was there. I had to pretend I didn't see her or Britt would get jealous, or whatever guy was with Quinn would. After a while, we just stopped going there. The food at that little Italian place was better anyway.”

“Yeah,” Daria smiled. “I did get Tom to take me there once to see what the fuss was all about. The waiters were all jerks and the food was pretty lousy. I hope this place is better.”

“I'm sure it will be,” he said, as they drove into the night.

Kevin was right; the food was markedly better than Daria remembered from Chez Pierre, and the waitstaff did not so much as snicker at Kevin's atrocious pronunciation. The conversation left something to be desired though. Although she asked him about football, Kevin didn't seem to want to talk about it, and she was afraid that talking about the law firm or the classes she was planning to take would bore him. Also, he didn't seem to be enjoying his filet mignon as much as she enjoyed her chicken provençal. When she asked him how it was, he said it was very good, but she could see the disappointment on his face.

When they finished, however, it was he who suggested desert.

“I'm not sure, Kevin. I'm kind of full,” Daria said.

“Oh, come on, Daria. I'm sure this place makes great deserts, and we can split one.” He must have seen the reluctance on her face, because he added, “I promise I'm not going to order Jell-o or anything.”

“It's not that,” she said, wondering why this was such a big deal. She shoved down her confusion and said, “You know what? You're right. We should have desert. Pick something and we'll spit it.”

He ordered a Napoleon, which turned out to be almost as big as the Emperor himself. It tasted wonderful, but the experience again left something to be desired. Neither of them had much experience with a romantic desert, and Kevin at least, was used to taking healthy bites of whatever he ate, so his attempts to eat neatly looked almost physically painful to Daria, who wasn't doing much better. Not having been fed since she was 18 months old, she was unprepared to eat from any one else's fork. and she was sure she looked like a cat being dosed whenever Kevin offered her a forkful.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the waiter brought the check. Watching Kevin struggle against all reason to thank “mon-sewer,” Daria had a sudden insight. Once they were back in the car, she shared it with Kevin.

“So,” she said. “Did you enjoy dinner?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “It was, you know, I mean—“

“It was lousy.”

“Yeah,” he said, long face taking on a hang-dog expression. “You're not going to break up with me, are you?”

She gave him a half-smile to reassure him. “No. We know each other too yell for one bad dinner to ruin everything.” His face brightened as she continued. “But I think I know why dinner went so badly.”

“Because French food isn't very filling?”

“Not quite.” She laughed. “But then I'm used to smaller portion sizes. It's just that we were trying too hard. I appreciate that you wanted to impress me, and French food does impress girls like Quinn, but it's not you.”

“I thought you'd like it,” Kevin said, half accusing. “You said you did.”

“I did like the food,” Daria said. “But I'd like the food in lots of other places, too. And I'll enjoy myself more if you're enjoying yourself. I know you wanted to tell me about what's going on with the team, but you didn't even say a word about it.”

“I didn't want you to be bored.”

“I will be, sometimes, but it's important to you, so I want to hear about it. And I hope you'll want to hear about some of the classwork I'm doing or the books I'm reading, even though they don't interest you.”

“Of course, Daria,” he said. “I won't always understand, but you're smart enough to explain things so they make sense. And I want to make you happy too.”

“That's a good start, then. Why don't we try again tomorrow, go someplace we both want to go, and talk about the things we want to talk about.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Kevin said. They enjoyed the ride home much more, and the goodnight kiss in front of her dorm most of all.

Dinner the next day was much better, and the few days after that. They didn't always have a meal, but they found a way to spend time with each other, even if it was just walking around the mostly empty quad, and if Kevin's mind was much on football, Daria found it didn't bother her. His enthusiasm helped her see the strategic aspect of the game, forcing her to revise her long-held opinion that football was created for idiots by idiots. And if he was bored by her literature talk, he was kind enough not to show it. The patient attention he showed was a long way from the kid who only cared about Hamlet because it had a skull in it.

The physical part of the relationship was progressing more slowly, because the time they spent walking and talking was time they couldn't spend exploring each other's bodies. She and Kevin still hadn't done more than French kiss—first base, Quinn would have called it, with a bit of a shudder—but for Daria, with her reticent nature and the still-present specter of Tom hovering over her, this was something of a blessing, even if her body wanted more. At the end of the month, the team and the move were going to keep them apart for a week, and Daria hoped she would understand her conflicting desires better by the end of that time.

Colleen, of course, was no help with any of it. For three weeks, she hounded Daria for vulgar details about her and Kevin, only desisting days before the move when Daria threatened to tiger-stripe her hair, with green stripes. And then, when Daria thought she might enjoy a brief interlude of peace, Colleen greeted her on the morning of the move with a hale, “Hello,” and a hearty, “So, have you fucked him yet?”

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Daria said, as Colleen got out of the U-Haul.

“What?” Colleen said, a wicked gleam in her eye. “Hiding your sexual escapades from your best friend in the whole college world?”

“I was thinking more that my best friend in the whole college world is a nymphomaniac. Aren't Irish Catholic girls supposed to be uptight?”

College laughed. “Daria, Daria,” she said. “Haven't you heard about us Catholic school girls?”

“A point,” she said. “But this Lutheran girl is more interested in getting moved in than satisfying your prurient interests.”

Colleen looked around. “Speaking of prurient interests, where is the big goof?”

“Stuck at football practice. Kickoff Classic is four weeks away, so free time is pretty thin on the ground.”

“No matter. Lets get your boxes in the truck. Gina and Jerry will be at my place and the others will meet us at the apartment with the furniture.”

“That was your department.” Colleen's grandfather was a carpenter, and she claimed the whole clan had picked up some of his expertise.

Daria's stuff was the work of less than an hour. Most of her things had still been packed from the move from Lawndale, and she wasn't much of a pack rat anyway. Aside from a couple of boxes of books, everything was pretty light.

Colleen's room took a little longer, as she was more of a clothes horse, but they were on their way to the new place soon enough, where they found close to a dozen warm bodies, as well as the promised furniture. Colleen was about to suggest a beer run when Daria stopped her.

“First rule of moving,” she said. “Don't crack the beer until after everything is inside.

“How do you know that?” Colleen asked with a lopsided smile.

“We moved a bunch of times before settling in Lawndale and couldn't always afford to pay for movers,” Daria replied. “Mom used to flip if Dad broke out the booze before we got all the boxes in. One move in took almost a week.” She shook her head, mock sadly. “Oh, the traumas I endured.”

Colleen did eventually go on the promised beer run, but not without heeding Daria's warning. Thus, unloading the truck was an orderly and efficient process. As she popped the top of her first beer of the day, Daria was satisfied: if the girls still had a crapload of unpacking to do, well, at least everything was in the right place to be unpacked. Some relaxation was in order.

Sadly, her relaxation was short-lived. Gina made the mistake of asking where her boyfriend was, which led to discussion of who her boyfriend was. Most of the other movers were friends of Colleen's or Jerry's and were unhealthily interested and how and why she was dating the varsity backup QB of the Fighting Irish. Daria patiently explained that she'd known Kevin for years, and his new status had nothing to do with their mutual attraction. None of the guys seemed to believe her. After the fifth go-round, even Colleen got disgusted—Colleen, who usually lived for awkward scenes. The redhead growled, drained her half-full beer, and said, “Alright. Party's over. It's time to go.” Protests were quickly overridden and within a few minutes the two new roommates were alone in their apartment, Jerry and Gina having apologized before leaving last.

“Thanks, Colleen,” Daria said. “I was about to snap at the end, there.”

“Well, we went to all the trouble of moving you in. I”d hate to have to box up all your stuff and send it to prison.” Colleen tried a chuckle, but it died into a sigh. “I'm sorry, Daria. We should have been more careful.”

“Yeah,” Daria said, rolling her eyes. “Careful. It doesn't make any sense, you know. Why should anyone care who Kevin is dating?”

“I know this is all weird shit for you, and you're way too independent to care about status crap, but other people aren't like you.” Colleen suddenly looked sad. “And it's not going to get any easier from here on out.”

“I know,” Daria said. “And Colleen?”

The redhead gave her friend a searching look. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

Over the next few days, the girls settled into a routine. Since their summer classes were around the same time, they shared a morning pot of coffee and walked each other to campus. On the way, Colleen would tease Daria about Kevin, and Daria would tell Colleen to go to hell. Everything was good for Daria, except she missed her boyfriend over the course of those days. It wasn't until the next weekend that they finally got together.

Colleen thoughtfully made herself scarce so that Daria was alone in the apartment when Kevin came by. “Wow, Daria! This place is cool,” he said, throwing himself on the old, but comfortable couch. “No TV, though.”

“No,” she said. “No one had an old one, and we don't feel like paying for cable on top of Internet fees.”

He shrugged and smiled, “No worries.” Putting his hands out, he added, “Come sit with me.”

Daria hesitated for just a moment, old fears of intimacy warring with current desire. _This is why you wanted Colleen out of the apartment, stupid_ , she berated herself. Finally, she slid in next to him on the couch and, ignoring the parts of her that said no, pulled his arms around her. She half-smiled at his satisfied hum.

“This is nice,” she said, and meant it. “Now tell me about practice.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, not moving.

“Of course,” she replied. “If you don't, I'm going to start talking about symbolism in Russian literature and we'll both be unconscious in minutes.”

He laughed, which made her happy, and launched into a description of what the coaches were having him work on. The starter got most of the practice time—or “reps,” as he called it—but by leading the second string, he was learning to read college defenses and follow his progressions, something he never had to do in high school. Daria was again struck by how complex the job of quarterback was, and how much she had underestimated him over the years. Silently resolving not to do so in the future, she let him continue explaining the various types of plays the team ran and the greater variety of the starter's playbook. When she finally grew bored, she slid her arm around from in front of his, burrowing into his neck, so she could plant tiny kisses there in rapid succession.

“No more football?” His voice was half laugh and half moan of contentment.

“No more football,” she said and begin running her hands through his hair.

The kisses became more serious, and Daria tried to let go of her innate objectivity and lose herself in pleasant sensations. For awhile she was successful, as she and Kevin exchanged kisses and caresses. His fingers, lightly touching, set her skin a-tingle in a way that nothing and no one ever had before.

Fingers sought buttons with fumbling urgency and soon both their shirts were on the floor. The touch of skin against skin further aroused Daria, but also woke the fears in her psyche. Instead of Kevin's adoring eyes, she once again saw Tom's flashing with something very close to heat, as he delivered his final denunciation, “I don't know why I ever wanted to sleep with you. It's like fucking a board.” Before she could even banish Tom, Bryce was there too, with his oily charm and his lies, and Trent too, dismissing her with a glance as his “kid sister's friend.”

Kevin noticed her sudden withdrawal. “Is something the matter, sweet lady? I'm not hurting you, am I?”

“No,” Daria said softly, looking away from him. “It's fine. It's—“ She paused for a deep breath. “I guess I'm just not used to feeling wanted."

Gently, he tipped her face up to his. “I can't imagine why. You're so smart and pretty and caring.”

Part of her wanted badly to believe him, but her subconscious whispered tales of his thoughtless high school days. As she usually did when caught between conflicting emotions, she defaulted to sarcasm. “Of course I am,” she said. “And will you still tell me that after we sleep together?”

“Sure, Daria,” he said, and she could see the hurt register in his eyes. “I'll tell you every day if you want, because it's true.”

A sudden sadness filled her. She had hurt him, and she'd wanted to hurt him. It was unfair. He wasn't Tom or Bryce or even the Kevin she'd known in Lawndale. He was a thinking, feeling person who wanted to make her happy, and she'd repaid him with her pain. “I'm sorry, Kevin,” she finally whispered, as tears started in her eyes. “You must think I'm a total bitch.”

“No,” he said. “I'm not sure I understand, but I really like you, Daria, and I want to make you happy. Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it.”

She thought about it for a long moment. As she met his eyes, she ignored the part of her screaming about Tom and Bryce and betrayal, and focused on his words. They offered freedom from regret and the possibility of happiness, if she could let the past go. Realizing that, for once, words would not get her point across, she slid her arms back around Kevin's neck and glued her lips to his. She felt his smile, and let go of her regrets.

**Chapter 3: Unsportsmanlike Conduct**

As the summer wound down, the transition to lovers was easier than Daria expected. After that first memorable night, thoughts of old heartbreaks faded and she became accustomed again to desire without guilt or fear. It helped that Kevin knew what he was doing, so she was always satisfied when they were done—a most welcome change from Young Thomas, who had been selfish in bed.

Their idyll ended as August died. The first game of the football season was September 2, and Kevin, a member of the varsity, if unlikely to play, was expected to be ready. This meant more frequent practices, more intense playbook study, and less time for relationships.

Daria also faced pressure as the school year started. She wasn't surprised to see the syllabi of her new classes larded with heavy reading and longer papers; after all, she was starting her first upper level coursework. What she was surprised at was her lack of anonymity.

She noticed the whispering right off. As she gathered her books after her first class, Lit Crit, she noticed that a clot of students was already gathered by the door. She could hear whispers as she walked past, and she could feel eyes on her as she left. She tried to convince herself she was being paranoid and they had no special interest in her, but when it happened again after her other two classes, she realized she couldn't put it aside.

Colleen, typically, told her it was no big deal. “Revel in it, Daria. After all, this is probably the first time you've ever been the object of romantic gossip.”

Daria made a face. “Hardly. Between Upchuck making up rumors and Quinn basically telling the school I'd given it up when I hadn't, I've had enough of being someone else's story of the day to last a lifetime.”

Colleen laughed. “Then dating a quarterback is a bad idea.”

Daria soon began to think her roommate might be right. The next day, as she walked across the quad, Daria found herself confronted by two vaguely familiar girls of the cheerleader type. She tried to walk around them with only a quiet, “hey,” but they moved to block her path.

“Excuse me,” she said, annoyance coloring her voice.

“Just a tutor, huh?” the darker-haired of the two said.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Your boyfriend,” the petite blonde said, drawing out the word mockingly.

Daria suddenly remembered where she'd seen the two girls before. “Am I going to see you all semester? Or will you finally find something better to do?” she said with a sneer.

“What do you mean?” The blonde's words earned her a hard look from her companion.

“It's bad enough that you bothered me when I was only tutoring Kevin. If you're going to start haunting me every day because I'm dating him, I'm going to have to take steps.”

“She admits it!” The blonde said.

“It would hardly be much of a relationship if I wouldn't even admit it,” Daria said. Fixing the two girls with her coldest stare, she added, “I'm done with this conversation. It's time for you two to go away now.”

Her bluntness seemed to take them by surprise, and they wilted under her unyielding stare. After a moment they drifted away, trying to hide the fact that she'd run them off. She couldn't help but feel a certain satisfaction, but it was soon replaced with irritation, and she spent the rest of the day in a foul mood.

At dinner, Kevin wasn't any more help than Colleen had been. “I'm sorry it bothers you, Daria,” he said, over cheap, but surprisingly good Chinese food. “but it's part of dating a QB.” A hot retort bubbled up, but before she could say it, he continued. “I know you're dating me even though I'm a football player, not because I'm a football player, but no one else knows that.”

She felt her anger ebbing, in the face of his keen perception. “Can't you explain to people?” she pleaded.

He laughed, “There's no point, Daria. People are going to think what they want to think until they stop caring. And what you and I say about it isn't going to change anything anyway.”

“I don't deal well with being gossiped about, Kevin,” she said. Once again, she was reminded of the rumor about her and Tom. Kevin had been on the other side of that, babbling about “love babes” and “making the touchdown.” She tried hard not to transfer her anger at the younger, insensitive Kevin to the one sitting in front of her.

“I remember,” he said. “I was an ass about it then, and I'm sorry I can't help more now.”

“I know,” she said. She smiled at him, but her smile was a little bit sad.

The rest of the night went well, and she woke feeling refreshed. She decided that since there was nothing she could to about the gossip, she just wasn't going to let it bother her. She didn't consider the fact that it might bother other people.

* * *

Her day started normally enough. After a week, she'd gotten used to the murmuring, so she didn't let it disturb either of her first two classes. The second one let out around noon, discharging into the kind of sun-dappled day that only the end of summer could deliver. As she felt the sunlight on her skin and saw how inviting the grass of the common looked, she made a quick change in plans. Instead of going to back to her apartment for lunch, she swung by the commissary, grabbed a sandwich and a soda, and found a tree against which she could relax. Thus established, she pulled out a novel and began to read as she ate.

The combination of the good weather, the pleasant setting, and the interesting novel so engrossed her that she didn't notice the new shadow falling over her.

“Hey, Daria,” a diffident voice said. “Fancy seeing you here.”

She looked up, irritated to be interrupted, into a face that seemed familiar.

“Don't recognize me?” he said.

Something clicked. “Oh. Hey, Eddie,” she said, her tone neutral.

“That's all I get?” He smiled, but something seemed off.

The corner of her mouth turned down. “Well, all I got was a 'Hey, Daria, so it's only fair,” she said.

Still smiling that slightly disturbing smile, he lowered himself to the ground, “Mind if I join you?”

“I don't,” she said, in her flattest voice. “The tree might.”

“Funny, Daria,” he said. “You've always got a one-liner ready.”

“I guess,” she shrugged, “I just say what I think needs saying.” She turned back to her book, hoping that he would take the hint.

He didn't. “What are you reading?” he asked, leaning forward and getting entirely too close, she thought.

“ _The Handmaid's Tale_ ,” she said, ice creeping into her voice, “and I'd like to get back to it.”

“Whoa, whoa,” he said, hands raised as if warding off an attack. “I'm just saying hello. Is that how you treat all your old boyfriends?”

“Boyfriends? What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know,” he said and there was definitely something unpleasant in his expression, something that made Daria start slowly putting her things away, “before you dumped me for the football god.”

Daria stood, as anger burst over her. “Delusional much?” she said in her most cutting voice. “In order to dump you, I'd have to have dated you more than once. Which, given that we had as much spark as a bucket of wet sand, was unlikely, to say the least.”

He scrambled to his feet as well. “That hurts, Daria,” he said, voice mocking, as he put a closed fist over his heart. “Right here. It's like you don't think about me at all.” His feathers twisted into a leer. “I think about you all the time.”

“Right now, I'd like to think about taking a shower for about three days,” she said. “So if you don't mind, I'm going to go be somewhere else now, where I can look back on this conversion, laugh nervously, and pretend it never happened.”

“I think about how you told me you didn't like football or care about football players,” he said, ignoring or not hearing her. “And how you turned around and whored yourself out to one as soon as my back was turned.”

Part of Daria's mind considered her situation. She'd chosen her spot because it was somewhat secluded, which meant violence was definitely possible. Eddie could hit her or hurt her before anyone could help. The nearest bystanders, a group of seven or eight girls chatting gaily about fifty yards away, might not even notice or care what was going on. The rational part of her mind suggested flight. But that wasn't the part of in charge.

Rage burned as her eyes narrowed to slits. “I don't know what the fuck your problem is,” she snarled from behind clenched teeth, “but you'd better take it, and you, somewhere else or you will live to regret it.”

It hung there for a minute, the air changed with anger turned white-hot while somewhere distant fear churned, until Eddie, voice breaking, whispered, “Fuck you.” She could see the tears leaking from his eyes as he turned and ran off.

She didn't start to shake until she got back to the apartment.

By the time Kevin picked her up that night, she felt like herself again—or at least she told herself that. For dinner they went to a nice little bistro not too far from her apartment. The conversation over the meal was light and unmemorable until dessert, when seemingly out of the blue Kevin asked, “What's wrong?”

Her fork, full of cheesecake, stopped halfway to her mouth. “Nothing's wrong,” she said, after a slightly-too-long pause.

“You sure?” Kevin asked. “You've seemed a little tense all night.”

“Really,” she said. “I'm fine. Nothing interesting happened. I went to class, I read, and then I went home.” Her impression of calm serenity would likely have gone better if the hand holding her still-full fork hadn't started shaking ever so slightly.

“What happened, Daria?” His voice betrayed his worry.

She wanted badly to reassure him, to tell him that nothing happened, but when she looked into his brown eyes and saw the concern there, she realized she had to tell the truth.

She put down the fork and sighed. “I had a run-in with a guy I went out with once last year. He gave me a lot of crap for dating a football player and called me all sorts of names.”

Kevin's face hardened. “Did he hurt you?” His naked anger was shocking. She realized she'd never seem him truly mad before. Even the old, thoughtless Kevin was a pretty happy-go-lucky guy and was rarely, if ever, intentionally mean.

“No,” she said, voice soft. “I mean, he said some pretty ugly things, but he didn't touch me at all.”

“Tell me what he said,” he ground out through gritted teeth.

“I'd rather not, Kevin. It's not that important.”

“Tell me what he said,” he demanded, now biting off each word.

She sighed again, her desert now forgotten. “He called me a bitch and a whore,” she said. “Several times. I got back in his face and he said, 'Fuck you,' and ran off.”

His hands clenched into fists. “I'll kill him,” he snarled.

Reaching across the table, Daria placed a hand over one of his fists. “That's not the answer, Kevin,” she said.

“He hurt you, Daria,” Kevin said. “And I want to hurt him back.”

She looked away, suddenly unable to meet his flashing eyes. “I already did.”

“You didn't do anything!”

“I know,” she said, still looking down. “All I did was go out with someone and decide he wasn't for me. But he did get hurt.” She sighed and looked up at him again. “And now he hurt me back, so maybe we're even and he can forget about it.”

Kevin was silent for a long moment, and she wondered what was going on behind those brown eyes. When he finally spoke again, he sounded almost lost. “I don't understand, Daria. Do you want to forgive and forget?”

She quirked a half-smile at him. “I don't care about forgiveness. I just want to forget him.” At his still-confused look, she added. “Forgiveness is for the important people in your life. Like it took me a long time to forgive Quinn for all the things she said and did over the years, but she's my sister, so I had to. I don't have to do anything with this guy except avoid him forever.”

“What if you can't?” Kevin asked, concern replacing confusion. “What if he comes looking for you again?”

“Then I call the campus police,” she said. “I get him arrested for stalking, and incidentally don't get you arrested for assault.”

“It wouldn't come to that,” he said. “And anyway, if it's for you, I don't mind—“

“Well, I do,” she cut him off. “I won't have you mess with your scholarship and blow everything you've worked for over someone that doesn't matter.”

“What if he bothers you when I'm there? I'm not going to listen to him talk shit about you while I'm standing there.”

She quirked another half-smile. “If he's that desperate for a beating, I'll reconsider. But for now, let's drop it and finish our desert.” With a decisive motion, she grabbed her fork and ate the piece of cheesecake she'd ignored. He stared at her for a moment longer, and then with a shrug and a smile, attended to his key lime pie.

**Chapter 4: Interfering with the Catch**

Daria saw neither hide nor hair of Eddie over the next couple of weeks and, with the semester getting into full swing, she was able put the ugly little confrontation out of her mind. It was less clear if Kevin had done so too, but he didn't bring it up, for which she was grateful. She was less grateful to discover that being an object of gossip wasn't the only side “benefit” of dating the QB.

“You want me to what?” she said, trying very hard to control her voice.

“I want you to come to the game this Saturday,” Kevin said, sitting up from where he'd stretched out on her couch. “You've already missed the first two, and I think it would be nice to have you there.”

From her seat on the floor with her back to the couch, she had to twist her head almost a hundred and eighty degrees to give him a really good glare. “Kevin, I don't know the first thing about football. I won't even know when to cheer! How can there possibly any reason for me to be there?”

“That's not true, Daria,” he said, and she could see the hurt in his face. “Or have you just been humoring me when I talk about football?”

“No,” she said, suddenly embarrassed. “I've been listening, because I know it's important to you and I want to understand it. It's just that...”

“It's just what?” His brown eyes were earnest, pleading.

“It's just that I'm full of shit,” she said, realizing how selfish she was being. “If you want me there, I'll be happy to come.”

His smile was like the sun lighting the morning sky. “That's great! I love you, Daria!”

She opened her mouth to reply but closed it as the import of his words sank in.

“Oh, crap,” he said, seeing her expression. “I just did something wrong, didn't I?”

“No,” she finally managed. “There's nothing wrong. I mean, I—“ she paused to collect herself. “I guess I didn't expect to hear you say that so soon.” She looked around as if trying to find someplace to sit, but when her eyes lit on the couch, she made no move toward it, not even when he moved to put his arms around her. “It's true,” he whispered in her ear. “I love you. I think I've loved you for years.”

“Really?” She leaned back to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah,” he said. “I mean, I did keep trying to get your attention in high school. It's just that I'm an idiot, so I didn't know what I was doing or how to go about it.”

“You're not an idiot!” Her sudden fierceness shocked even her. “You're a remarkable, wonderful man, and I won't have you putting yourself down.”

“I'm sorry, Daria.” He looked away. “It's just that when everyone tells you you're stupid, you start to believe it.”

“Well, stop it,” she said, placing a finger on his cheek and turning him back to face her again. “I wouldn't waste my time with an idiot.” Her kiss ended any and all discussion.

The game, it turned out, wasn't as bad as all that. Being packed into a (relatively) confined space with something like eighty thousand other people wasn't Daria's idea of a good time, but it was a crisp fall day with soft breeze that carried the fragrance of falling leaves even over the mass of humanity. Admittedly, she was far enough away and unfamiliar enough with the game that even with Kevin's explanations, the action on the field was a blur of confusion. She could easily see the score, though, and the down and distance, which was enough to give her a general idea of what was going on. She even found herself caught up in the action, cheering as wildly as anyone around her when a game-ending field goal gave Notre Dame a narrow win.

Finding Kevin after the game turned out to be more complicated than Daria would have thought. She knew she'd have to wait for him to shower and change, and possibly even deal with the media, but she hadn't grasped exactly how many people were streaming out of the stadium after a football game. She tried to wait near the exit he'd told her, but the sheer number of people pouring out of the stadium pushed her back from her place. After forty-five minutes, she was a hundred yards away and worried he would miss her in the crush, but soon enough his smiling face bobbed through the crowd to her side.

“Great game, huh Daria?” She fancied she could see the exuberance coming off in waves through the T-shirt and jeans that had replaced his uniform.

“Well, I'm hardly a football expert,” she deadpanned as he slid arm around her, “but the defense played well against a pretty powerful offense, and the offense made the most of their opportunities late in the game.”

“Daria!” Kevin almost shouted with unalloyed glee. “You amaze me. You were really into it, weren't you?”

“Well,” she said, as he kissed her temple. “I was nervous at the end, especially since the kicker missed in the third quarter.”

Kevin laughed, and kissed her again. “You and me both, pretty lady. But don't tell anyone on the team I said that.”

“Said what?” She gave him a half-smile.

His eyes widened, “That I was worried the kicker would miss. I just told you.”

She started to shake her head in exasperation, until she saw the smile creeping across his handsome face. _I still need to stop underestimating him_ , she thought, even as the laughter welled out of her.

“Gotcha,” he said, smiling even wider.

“You did,” she said, and kissed him on the mouth as the crowds streamed around.

After a forever moment, they came up for air. “So what's on the agenda for now, comedian?”

“Dinner with my best girl,” he said. “And then,” he paused and fingered his collar.

“Out with it,” she said.

“Well, it's kinda tradition to hit the team's post-game party. I know it's not your thing, so if you don't want to I understand, but I kinda really need to be there. It's another way to bond with the team, and I need to do that if I'm ever going to start.” He gave her a pleading look.

She melted, giving him a half smile. “Sure. We'll do dinner and then hit your party. How bad could it be?”

* * *

Daria's words of course, came back to haunt her. The frat house hosting the party was a ramshackle many-storied Victorian with evident signs of disrepair including chipped paint and an unkempt lawn. Once inside, she found herself in a large, dimly lit room packed with people. Someone stuck a plastic pint cup in her empty hand, and the crowd seemed to flow, absorbing her and Kevin like a mad amoeba. Kevin give her hand a reassuring squeeze and said something, it it was impossible to make out over the babble of the crowd and with the jet engine whine of heavy metal music played at high volume. She gave him an uncertain smile and they started to circulate.

To make matters worse, Kevin was soon dragged off by a half dozen of what she guessed were teammates—guys so monstrously huge that she doubted she shared a species with them. Thanks to the music, she was unable to start a conversation even if she'd wanted to, she milled around the crowd, so she worked her way to a shadowy corner. She soon spotted Kevin near the keg. She wasn't sure what he was doing, but based on the body language of his gargantuan bodyguards, it was something stupid. With a sigh, she sank further into her corner.

For more than an hour, she stood in shadow, nursing whatever she'd been handed on her way in, fending off the occasional greeting, and wondering how she'd gotten herself into this. _I could be more out of place, I suppose. If I showed up to a nudist camp in a burqa._

Suddenly, a loud woman's voice was in her ear. “Having a good time?” At least Daria thought that was what she heard, thought the obvious slur and the pounding music made it hard to tell. She tried to ignore the voice, but a blond-haired moon face filled her view.

“I said, are you having a good time?” The other girl mouthed the words with exaggerated care, irritating Daria all the more.

“Does it _look_ like I'm having a good time?”

“It looks like you took a dump in your pants and you're hoping no one will notice.” The other girl cackled shrilly. She was a large girl, from what Daria could tell in the dim light, tall, with broad shoulders, and a thick waist. Daria could tell she'd been drinking, but not how drunk she was.

“Well, I'd be grateful if you'd leave me to wallow in my own filth, then.” Daria loaded her voice with as much venom as possible, but the other girl ignored it, if she even noticed.

“Aww, have a drink and loosen up.”

“I'd like to, but if I get too loose, my limbs fall off.”

The blond cackled again and took a swig from the cup in her hand. “So if you're not having a good time, why are you here?”

“I lost a bet.” Daria looked down at the cup in her own hand. She wasn't sure what the liquid was, but even if the shadows, she could tell its color didn't appear in nature.

The girl gave her an owlish look. “Whatever. I'm here to get laid.”

“Then why are you talking to me?” Daria asked.

“'snot time yet.” The girl took another drink as a guy and a girl holding hands slipped past them and disappeared further into the shadows.

“You sure about that?”

“Tha's the first round,” the girl said, her voice getting indistinct. “Once all the hotties get skimmed, girls like you n' me move in for the leftovers.”

“Leftovers?” Daria was repelled, but also fascinated.

“Th'guys who don't hook up right away 'r still hard up. Tha's when we move in.” She gave Daria an unsteady leer. “S'mtimes y' get lucky. A hot guy messes with a prick tease and she won' let him go all the way. 'f he's hard up, he won' care who he fucks.” She gave Daria a conspiratorial wink that looked only slightly like a stroke victim trying to blink. “'ve had a couple of foo'ball players tha' way, c'n tell you.”

Daria wanted to take a step back, but she was already against the wall and had nowhere to go. Instead, she scanned the room for Kevin, who was nowhere to be seen. “Where the hell are you, football boy?” she muttered.

“Whaddaya mean, foo'ball boy,” her unwelcome companion demanded.

“I don't mean anything,” Daria snapped. “I was thinking out loud.”

The other girl pointed an unsteady finger at Daria. “Lookin' down yer nose , when yer here lookin' fer a foo'ball boy to fuck jus' like me. Yer full of shit.” She stabbed her finger at Daria for emphasis, missing by a foot.

Stung, Daria snapped, “I'm waiting for my boyfriend, so I can get the hell out of here. If I'd known how awful it was going to be, I'd never have let him drag me here In the first place, team or no team.”

The other girl's jaw went slack. “Y'r boyfrien's onna team?”

Daria folded her arms and fixed the other girl with her angriest glare. “What's it to you if he is?”

The other girl stared back for a long moment, while a rational part of Daria's mind wondered if she'd just provoked a fistfight with a drunk. Instead, the blond dissolved into howls of laughter, her whole body shaking with mirth and spilling her drink into the bargain. “Dammit,” Daria said, as unnaturally fluorescent liquid splashed her feet and leg, “These are good shoes!”

The thick girl's laughter, which had begun to subside, started again, but much to Daria's relief, she staggered off in search of a replacement drink.

Daria looked down at her feet and sighed. She decided to make one pass of the room to find Kevin, after which she was leaving, and if she had to call a cab, so be it. Before she could put her plan into action, a small commotion caught her attention.

“C'mon,” another female voice said. “Le's do it. 'swhut we're both here for.” She seemed, as far as Daria could tell, to be tall and willowy. The person shes was addressing was also tall, and broad shouldered.

He also appeared to be pulling away from her. “You're making a scene,” he said in a harsh whisper that somehow cut through the ambient noise.

“M'not,” she said, and swayed. “Though you said you wanted me.”

“Not like this,” he said. “You're falling down drunk, and it won't be fun for either of us.” He finally pulled his arm from hers, and for a second it seemed she would fall. She somehow found her balance and even in the shadows, Daria could see the anger in eyes.

“Fine,” she said. “If you won't fuck me, I'll find someone who will.” She stumbled off and was hanging off another muscular arm in under a minute. From their body language, Daria guessed that this guy had no problem with taking a drunk girl to bed.

Her stomach churned with sudden nausea as she looked back to the abandoned guy. Their eyes met briefly; she saw the hurt and confusion in his eyes, and hoped he saw the sympathy and compassion in hers. For a moment, she was tempted to try to talk to him, but something stopped her and then he was gone. As she struggled to compose herself, Kevin finally appeared, a little unsteady on his feet, but not otherwise impaired.

“Thank God,” Daria snapped. “Can we get the fuck out of here now, Kevin?”

“I gotta stay,” Kevin said, a hangdog expression on his face. “That's why I wanted to find you. I called a cab. It'll be here in ten minutes.”

Daria raked him with a glare. “So you left me for hours and then decided on your own that I'd want to leave?”

“But you just said you wanted to leave,” Kevin said. “Besides, I figured if you didn't want to go, someone else would and they'd have a cab.”

Daria took a deep, calming breath. She was still pissed off, but recognized that lashing out at a half-drunk Kevin wasn't going to solve anything. Besides, the big goof looked cute with his tousled hair and his hangdog expression. “Fine,” she said. “Take me to the cab.”

The cab pulled up to the house right on time. Daria opened the rear door, and then kissed Kevin on the cheek. Thank you. Have a good time, and give me a call in the morning to let me know you got home.”

His face lit in a smile. “I will, Daria.”

On the way back, she thought about the party and how much she hated the load, drunken mindlessness. She thought about the girls who where there for meaningless sex or to prostitute themselves to the team or anyone associated with it. But mostly, she thought about tousled hair and a big goofy grin.

**Chapter 5: Unfair Act**

“It's just that the culture is so appalling,” Daria said. “All these spoiled little princelings with no one to say them nay. Women lining up to be used and thrown away like toilet paper.”

“It was like that in high school, too,” Quinn replied. Quinn's experience with Lawndale jock culture made her a better choice for this conversation than either Jane or Colleen. “It's just that everyone's more obnoxious because the prizes are so much bigger.”

Phone receiver to her ear, Daria sprawled across the couch, an untouched cup of tea on the coffee table next to her. Both table and couch were finished cherrywood, made by mysterious members of Colleen's extended family—or even Colleen herself for all Daria knew. Fluffy white cushions set off the light brown of wood and gave Daria something to sink into when she needed comfort, which she did very much at that moment. “How did you deal with it?”

“I ignored it, Daria. You know that,” Quinn laughed, but Daria heard a trace of bitterness. “I did my stuck-up airhead thing, and I got whoever I wanted to take me to dinner and buy me things.” Daria could almost see her sister's grimace. “And I made damn sure that at the end of the night there was door between me and whatever jock had just taken me home.”

“It's a little late for that,” Daria said acidly.

Quinn laughed again, this time with real amusement. “And who would have pictured that, back at Lawndale?”

“You're not helping, Quinn.”

“Sorry, sis.” She didn't sound all that sorry. “What does Colleen think of all this?”

At the mention of her roommate, Daria looked down at her tea. _Damn Colleen for hooking me on this stuff anyway. I was perfectly happy with seven cups of coffee a day._ “She thinks it's great. She's all for people having sex in general, and me in particular. But it's not the sex I'm bothered by, it's the culture of entitlement. And she doesn't see it.”

“Does Kevin?”

“Good question, sis,” Daria said. “We haven't really talked about it, because I want to be able to explain what I'm thinking, which I can't do when I'm still not sure what I'm thinking.”

“Well, he's obviously not the same guy he was in Lawndale, or you wouldn't be together. In fact, you'd probably have killed him by now—”

“I almost did a few times,” Daria cut in, getting a chuckle from Quinn.

“But you're happy with him, right?”

“Yeah, I am.” Daria was glad Quinn couldn't see the drippy smile on her face.

“Maybe you shouldn't worry too much about it.” Quinn said. “You can't change jock culture, Daria. And you don't need to change Kevin. Just let yourself be happy.”

“I know,” Daria said. “It's just—“

“It's just—” Quinn mocked. “I love you, sis, but you're not changing the world. You're just dating a guy. And you're lucky, because he's a good guy, and he's making you happy without conditions or limits. When and if that changes, you can rethink. For now, enjoy yourself.”

“You're right, Quinn.”

“I'm always right.”

“Nice try. I love you, sis.”

“I love you too.”

Daria tried to keep Quinn's advice firmly in mind over the next few weeks, but it was difficult. For one thing, she and Kevin had much less time together. Three of the next four games were on the road and as the backup QB, Kevin had to travel with the team. Of Kevin's remaining free time, some was spent on tutoring, leaving little relationship time. Daria frequently reflected that a canceled practice was about the only way they were going to get quality time together.

A rainy midweek day in October gave Daria some hope. After slogging around campus for her morning classes, she decided to call it a day, head back to the apartment, and give Kevin a call. Colleen was also home, and entertained herself by leering outrageously as Daria made the call. After 11 rings, she gave up, threw herself on the couch and sighed.

“No luck, huh?” Colleen said, patting Daria on the shoulder.

“I'm surprised you're sympathetic,” Daria said. “Now you can stay in the apartment.”

“With you,” Colleen said. “Not such a benefit that I'm willing to dance a jig.”

Daria absently grabbed a pillow from the couch and tossed it over her shoulder. “What are we going to do now?”

“Throw a wild party, get a bunch of hunks over here, and have meaningless sex until dawn?” Colleen said.

From her spot on the couch, Daria could only imaging her friend's smirk. “Try again.”

“We could always just have people over. Jerry and Gina and a couple of others,” Colleen said. “We'll have some wine, play a game, talk. It could be nice.” As Daria nodded, Colleen added, “And then I'll go and look for meaningless sex.”

Rolling her eyes, Daria reached for the phone again. Within a couple of hours, there were eight people at the apartment. Jerry and Gina were around the coffee table playing _Settlers of Catan_ with another couple they were friends with—a heavyset white guy with a petite and pretty Chinese girl. Daria and Colleen paired up at the card table for euchre against Keith and John, interchangeable dark-haired guys with five o'clock shadow who were friends of Colleen's. Laughter and good cheer filled the apartments, with friendly beers at everyone's side, when the doorbell rang.

Across the table, Daria gave Colleen a puzzled look. The redhead shrugged. “Don't look at me. I wars worried eight people might make you spook and flee to the library. I certainly wasn't going to invite any more.”

Still confused, Daria answered the door to find Kevin in the doorway, flowers in his hands and a big smile on his face. “Hey, Daria! I had the afternoon free....” His words died as he took in the all the people.

Hiding her surprise and confusion, Daria relieved Kevin of the flowers. “Thank you,” she said. “Come on in, and grab a beer. We're just hanging out and playing cards and stuff.”

She saw a challenge in Kevin's eyes as he looked at her, but he ambled off to the fridge amiably enough. When he returned, beer in hand, she put an arm around him and pointed everyone out. “You know Jerry and Gina, and these are their friends Mark and Chun Yi.” The couple gave Kevin a quick nod and went back to the game. “And Keith and John are friends of Colleen's.” When John gave Kevin a friendly wave, she thought they were home free, but then Keith looked up. “A quarterback, forsooth!” he said, striking an exaggerated pose. “Gracing our humble games. My life hath seen its crown.”

Kevin frowned, but managed to be polite. “Hey. I'm Kevin Thompson. Nice to meet you all.”

Daria gave him what she hoped was a comforting squeeze before sitting back down to her game. Fortunately, Keith didn't feel the need for any more declaiming, so Kevin was able to settle in.

Euchre is a fast game, so they were able to finish up in less than ten minutes, Daria and Colleen handily victorious. As the cards were cleared away, John said, “So do you play cards, Kevin?”

“Uh, yeah,” Kevin said. “Gin, Rummy, Poker, Blackjack. My dad taught me.”

Daria could have sworn she heard the words “go fish” from Keith's vicinity. If he'd said it louder, she would have thrown him out then and there, but her innate fairness and the knowledge that it would bother Kevin made her hold her tongue.

“We usually play trick-taking games like Hearts, Spades, Euchre, or Bridge,” John said, “Someone can sit out if you want to play.”

“I don't think so,” Kevin said, looking more and more uncomfortable. “I'll just watch if you don't mind.”

“Suit yourself,” John said, and proceeded to deal Hearts. Daria, dividing her attention between the game and assessing her boyfriend's mental state, didn't do particularly well at either. The only conclusion she reached was that if she felt awkward, Kevin must be verging on panic. She was secretly relieved when he wandered off to watch the other game.

“This should be good,” Keith said to John in a not-quite-private aside, inclining his head toward Kevin. Any fellow-feeling Daria might have had for John died with his amused snort.

“I don't feel well,” she said, dropping her cards face-up. “I think I'm going to bed.” Ignoring Colleen's worried look, she gave everyone a hard glare and stood. “Try not to trash the place behind my back.”

Slamming her bedroom door felt good, even better than the petty way she ruined the game for those two assholes. Silent rage at Keith and John, and to a lesser extent at t men in general, kept her mind occupied for an hour. Meanwhile, she alternately hoped Kevin would get lost and waited for him to come in. It was Colleen, however, who eventually eased the bedroom door open.

“I thought you didn't like drama,” she said, dispelling any notion that she was going to go easy on her roommate.

“Sorry,” Daria snapped, without raising her head from her pillow. “I'm allergic to assholes. Especially when they come into my house and abuse my boyfriend.”

“Kevin's a big boy. He can handle it.”

“That's not the point!” Daria said, finally sitting up. “They should know better than to act like that.”

“Well, they think they're funny—Keith especially.” The room was still dark, but Daria fancied she could see Colleen's impish smile. “Not like we know anyone else like that.”

“Shut up.”

“That'll larn me. For what it's worth, I had no idea, Keith had such a bug up his ass about athletes. Of course,” she added after a moment, “I had no idea Kevin was going to be here....”

“Yeah, well,” Daria signed. “Did he hang around at all?”

“Keith? He looked like he was going to go off on you until he get a look at Kevin's face. His thing about athletes doesn't involve fighting them.” She chuckled. “Kevin stared at your door for a few minutes and left. The others followed. You've got to admit, that kind of blow up is really kind of a buzzkill.”

“It has its points,” Daria said, suddenly feeling tired. “Night, Colleen.”

A heavy pause filled the air, as if Colleen wanted to say something, but couldn't decide what. She finally settled on, “Night, Daria,” and closed the door.

* * *

Things with Colleen were back to normal by the next morning. Daria wished she could say the same thing about Kevin. Consecutive weeks of travel with the team meant they didn't see each other at all, and when he got back, he seemed different—less enthusiastic and more reserved. When she suggested that he pick their nest date destination, he was ambivalent.

“Whatever you want, Daria,” he said, as she frowned at the receiver.

“What I want is for us to have a good time, Kevin,” she said, trying not to let the irritation leak into her voice. “If you have a good time, I will too.”

“Okay,” he said, after a long moment. “Let's hit the burger place and then do a movie.”

“Sounds good,” she said. They chatted for a minute or two before a mutual goodbye that left Daria uncomfortable.

Kevin turned up at the door right on time, but when Daria said, “Let me get my coat and we can go,” he began to fidget.

“Can I come in?” he finally said. “I think we need to talk.”

A stab of uncertainty robbed her of speech, so she simply nodded and made room for him. Rather than sprawl on the couch, as was his usual habit, Kevin paced back and forth nervously.

“What is it, Kevin?” Daria finally burst you. “You're making me nervous.”

“I'm already nervous,” he said. “This is important, but I'm not sure how to say it. I'll probably say it wrong because I'm stupid and then you'll hate me.”

“You're not stupid!”

The flash of anger seemed to focus him. He dropped to the couch, and she slipped in next to him without speaking. The silence grew heavy.

“It's all wrong,” Kevin finally burst out. “It's not supposed to be! I finally find a girl who likes me for me and not what I can do on a football field, someone who makes me be a better me, someone who it feels right to love, and everything still feels wrong.”

“What's wrong?” she asked, as she put a gentle hand on his shoulder. The squeeze in her gut that had started when Kevin arrived continued to tighten as she added, “Is it something I did?”

He shook his head no, but the tightness inside of her didn't recede. “Then tell me what feels wrong.”

“I'm only happy with you when it's only me and you,” he said after a moment. “You hate the football scene, and I can't hack your friends.” At her frown, he added, “Colleen's cool, but Jerry and Gina look at me like a lab experiment. And that other asshole and his buddy—“

“Are not my friends.” Daria cut him off. “I've never met them before and if I have my way, I'll never meet them again.”

“Yeah, but that's the kind of guy you should be with.” Kevin said, looking away. “Smart. Well-read. Quick with a comeback that's more complicated than 'Fuck you' or 'I know you are, but what am I?'”

“Kevin,” Daria said, heart pounding so loudly she was sure the other tenants could hear it. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“No,” he said, trying to meet her eyes and failing. “I don't know. I don't want to break up with you. I love you.”

“I love you too, Kevin,” she said, almost in wonder.

“But if I love you,” he continued as if he hadn't heard, “but I'm not good for you, I should be strong enough to let you go.”

“What do you mean, not good for me? Look at me, Kevin,” she said, standing up. “I just said I love you.” Visions of Tom swam in her head. “That means something.”

“It does, Daria,” he said, rising and taking her hands. “It means a lot. But can you still love me if I'm the starting QB on a major college bowl team? When I stop being Kevin who you can talk to and tutor, and start being the kind of Mr. Big Time Football Star I could only dream of in Lawndale? And you have to go along for the ride?”

She couldn't suppress the involuntary shiver picturing herself on Kevin's arm with a microphone shoved in her face expected to gush for the cameras on command.

“Or even worse,” Kevin said, locking on to her hesitation and boring in. “Could you love me when you're teaching four classes a year and I'm working three days a week selling cars? Even if I get my degree, I'll be lucky to pull a C+ average, and I've heard enough to know that's not enough to make me a sure thing in the white-collar world.”

Another picture swam up in Daria's memory, this one not real, but compelling anyway: Trent, balding and unkempt, beaten by life and dragging her down with him. Could that happen to Kevin?

“Don't you think we're moving a little too fast, Kevin? We're both sophomores. We're allowed to relax and enjoy each other. Even Quinn said that.”

The mention of Quinn's name won a brief smile from Kevin, but it disappeared. “It's just I feel like we've moved past 'enjoying each other.' That's what I did with Brittany.”

“That was a different you, Kevin,” Daria said.

“That's the point. I don't want a 'babe' or someone to hang off my arm. I want something _real_. And I have that with you, and I love it. I want to get serious, but I don't see we can get serious and not hurt each other really, really badly.”

Daria started to say that of course they weren't going to hurt each other, that couples always hurt each other, but they would—and then she stopped. Her racing heart quieted and the fear receded, replaced by clarity. “I understand,” she said softly. “I understand, and I'm sorry.” He said nothing, so she continued. “We've both reached the point where we want to get serious, and part of getting serious is thinking about spending our lives together. And our lives don't fit together. You and I are compatible, but our worlds aren't, and sooner or later that's going to pull us apart.”

He nodded, the tears standing unshed in his eyes. “I'll stay with you, Daria, if you want me to. We can suffer together.”

“But you don't think it's right,” she said.

“I don't think it's right.”

For a long moment, she said nothing, regretting what wouldn't be but knowing she— _he_ was making the right choice. “I think I love you more right now than I will ever love anyone,” she said softly. “But you're right. We can't be together, not and still be who we are.”

“We can still be friends, though,” Kevin said, as he stood. The tears were streaming down his cheeks, and her own vision was getting blurry.

“Of course,” she said. “We'll always be friends. Nothing will change than.” Then, she jumped up from the coach and threw her arms around him and kissed him, wildly, fiercely, wishing she never had to let go, as the tears streamed down her checks and mingled with his. Finally, they broke apart, this time for good.

“Good-bye, my friend,” he said, a trace of the old Kevin Thompson smile appearing through his tears.

“Good-bye, my friend,” she said, and waved forlornly as he opened the door and walked out. “Good-bye my love,” she added in a whisper once the door had closed behind him. Then she threw herself on the couch and cried until there were no tears left. Colleen found her there and put her to bed, several hours later.

***

The next day passed in a haze for Daria. She was pretty sure she went to class that day, but she wasn't sure they were the right classes. Only Colleen's concern really registered, but as a light breeze, trying and failing to do more than ruffle the edges of a dense fog.

Fortunately, the condition didn't last. Within a couple of days, Daria was, if not back to her old self, at least once more focused on her life, much to Colleen's relief.

“I don't mind saying you had me worried for the last couple of days,” Colleen said over after-dinner tea. “I didn't think Kevin had it in him to hurt you that badly.”

“He didn't.” Daria took a sip from her cup. “I think that's part of why I came out of it so far. When Tom dumped me, I was out of it for a week.” At Colleen's frown, she added, “It was early in the semester. I don't think we'd starting hanging out that much yet.”

“In that case I'm glad I missed it,” the redhead said. “You were frightening enough with the crying all night and then waking up and mumbling, 'Have to get to class,' over and over.”

“And how is me being worried about getting to class unusual, let along disturbing.”

“It was Sunday, Daria,” Colleen said with asperity and put down her cup.

“Oh,” Daria said, in a small voice. A faraway look came into her eyes. “You know,” she added, “that explains a lot.”

Colleen just sighed, a heavy put-upon sigh. “I don't want to know. Just... are you going to tell me what happened. I'm no expert in long-term relationships, but you seemed to be going good, and next thing, Dump City.”

“It wasn't quite that.”

“Then tell me what it was.”

“Okay,” Daria said, and took another sip of her tea. “We're good now, but we're not going to stay good. We broke up now before we got in even deeper. Our lives are going to pull us apart no matter what we do.”

Colleen took a moment to let it sink in and then let out an explosive breath. “That has got to be the dumbest reason I have ever heard for breaking up. Did football boy take too many hits without a helmet?”

“It wasn't dumb at all,” Daria said, fighting down a wave of anger—anger that would help nothing. “It was one of the wisest and bravest things I've ever seen. Think about it, Colleen,” she reached out for her friend's hand. “Kevin and I, we had this little narrow window where who we are and what our lives are like would let us be happy, and we were. But the window is closing, and Kevin realized, even before I did. I would have clung, just like I clung to Tom, and I would have hurt so much more.”

“But—“ Colleen seemed stuck for something else to say.

“But he was right. Our time with each other was a gift—something we loved and learned from. And now it's over, like it was meant to be. Because I can't be the starting QB's girlfriend at a football factory like Notre Dame, and he's not suddenly going to love discussing Chaucer over bridge, or get excited about losing me in the stacks of whatever grad school I end up in.”

Much to Daria's irritation, Colleen didn't seem to be listening anymore. Instead, she was shifting around on the couch, looking for all the world like she was trying to find something. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for pods,” Colleen said, straight-faced. “You're obviously not Daria, with all that love and destiny talk, so you must be an alien. If I prove it, I'll be rich.”

“I hate you,” Daria said, a half-smile taking the sting out of her words. “You are too damn much like Jane.”

“I've said it before and I'll say it again” Colleen smiled, “Jane is a wise and perceptive woman.” She picked. up her cup again and sipped. “I still think you're nuts. But if you're okay with how things ended with Kevin, I'm not going to talk you out of it. Only—”

“Only what?”

“Don't start spelling woman with a 'y,' eh?” She never saw the pillow that hit her, spilling her tea all over her slacks.

By mutual agreement, Daria found someone else to continue Kevin's tutoring. Just because they weren't angry at each other, she reasoned, didn't mean they needed to torture each other with close contact with the breakup still so recent. The free time was nice, in a way. She had more time for her own studies again, and more time for phone conversations.

Of course, explaining her breakup to Jane didn't exactly go well. The fact that she'd had to hang up after five solid minutes of Jane laughing at her was bad enough, but Colleen constant refrain of, “What'd Jane say? C'mon, tell me what Jane said?” for two days straight finally drove Daria to her room.

The conversation with Quinn went more smoothly. Daria was surprised at her sister's perception. “I'm not surprised that you couldn't just have fun,” Quinn said when Daria told her about the breakup, “but I'm surprised Kevin couldn't do it either.”

“Yeah,” Daria said. “That was a surprise to me, too. It was pretty amazing, though.”

“I'm sure it was.” the redhead said. “He was probably right, though. You're both who you are, and you had to change so much just to make it work for a little while. I don't think either of you could have changed more.” Suddenly, she laughed.

“I got enough of that with Jane,” Daria said, nettled.

“I'm sorry, Daria. It's just not only are you the only person I know who would trade happiness now against misery later, but you even got Kevin Thompson to do it for you. I think you might be too good for this world.”

“I'm not a saint, Quinn.” Daria frowned. “You of all people should know that.”

“Oh, I do, sis.” Quinn chuckled again, and Daria could almost see her sister's evil grin on the other end of the line. “I'm just glad your self-righteous streak is only a mile wide now.”

“You know, if I wanted abuse I could just talk to Colleen. I don't have to waste long-distance minutes on you.”

“I'm more stylish about it,” Quinn said. “Just,” her tone turned serious. “Don't shut yourself in. You went through a lot with Tom, and the other guys, and now this—“

“This is not like Tom,” Daria said firmly. “Being with Kevin was good. I'm ready for what's next, not afraid of it.”

“I'm glad to hear,” Quinn said. “I love you, sis.”

“I love you too, sis,” Daria said. After hanging up, she realized that she meant what she said. She loved Kevin, and part of her always would, she thought, but she was ready for what came next, even if it came the next day.

Actually, it was most of a week before a freckle-faced boy with a shock of blond hair, a lopsided smile, and the most gorgeous eyes she'd ever seen asked her out of coffee. Her answering smile as she said yes was radiant.


	4. Epilogue: Coaching

Daria's first semester in the grad program at U. Chicago had been taxing, and the winter break promised mostly prep for an arduous second semester. Still, the lack of classes meant she had some time to relax in front of the television in her tiny, but private, room.

At the sound of a knock, she shouted, “Come in,” and took a handful of chips from a bowl in front of her. The door opened, revealing her boyfriend, Allan. He gave her a cheery smile and slid in next to her on the couch, as she munched away contentedly at her chips.

She and Allan had been together since the beginning of their senior year at Notre Dame. It was only a coincidence that they'd both ended up at Chicago, but they'd been happy to take advantage of their continued proximity. Daria was definitely starting to feel like he was The One, and she was pretty sure he shared the sentiment.

“Watching the old alma mater?” he asked, as he grabbed some chips.

“Yup,” she said. The Cotton Bowl broadcast did indeed feature the Fighting Irish in their traditional gold helmets and navy blue jerseys. “After all, it is a bowl game.”

“And the Cotton is one of the big ones, I think,” he added, putting an arm around her and getting comfortable.

Within a couple of minutes, Notre Dame scored on a long pass play off a scramble by the quarterback. Allan gave a fist pump with his free hand, but without any special enthusiasm. Daria merely quirked her characteristic half smile. After the point after touchdown, the screen flashed the quarterback's stats.

“Kevin Thompson,” Allan said. “You know him, right? I heard you tutored him for awhile.”

Daria thought back on that wild time. They'd been good together, and good for each other too. She remembered the poison that her breakup with Tom Sloane had left on her soul, the bullshit with Bryce, and Eddie's hate-contorted features. She thought about the way she and Robbie just drifted apart. They'd lasted almost a year, but in the end, she had little in the way of memories beyond a pair of dreamboat eyes.

And she remembered Kevin introducing her to his bubbly blonde girlfriend Suzie, the same Suzie she thought he would probably marry. “I hope you don't mind, Daria, but I really value your opinion. I like her, but if you don't think she's good for me, I won't pursue it.”

She'd talked to Suzie and found that despite a superficial resemblance to Brittany Taylor, this blond had a lot on the ball. She was a nursing student, and her sweet nature hid a core of steel resolve. Daria had felt weird about the whole thing, but she'd been happy to give her assent, since she was sure that Suzie would never let Kevin turn into his father.

And now she was here, and she was in love and on the way to fulfilling her goals. She didn't hesitate to give herself credit—for finding a goal, for working hard, and for being open to the changes life offered—but she also knew that Kevin Thompson was a big part of why she was here and sane and happy today.

“Yes,” she said, settling more comfortably into Allan's embrace. “I tutored Kevin back when we were both sophomores. He taught me everything I know.”

**Author’s Note:**

I’ve had this complete in draft on my hard drive for more years than I care to count. I have no idea why it took so long for me to do a last editorial pass post it, but it did and I’m sorry. Thank you to the people who stuck with it when I was serializing it over at PPMB.

One quick continuity point for those not familiar with college football eligibility: Kevin’s still eligible to play for Notre Dame even though he’s technically in his fifth year because he did what’s called “redshirting.” He didn’t play for varsity as a freshman, so that doesn’t count against the four years he’s eligible to play college sports.

 **Disclaimer:** _Daria_ and all characters are copyright 1997–2002. I own nothing and am still merely along for the ride.


End file.
